Vice
by Aya Dormouse
Summary: Ongoing AU that very loosely follows the manga. Some Gil/Break, eventual Gil/Oz.
1. I

This story will have Gil/Oz as the main pairing, beginning in later chapters. There is some Gil/Break, so be warned. It is also AU so don't be alarmed if there are differences (because obviously it doesn't fit the manga). I'm uploading this right before finals but hopefully I can update soon. I've already started on chapter 2. Please review, otherwise I may lose the will to finish this. I love reading reviews, no matter how meaningless you think it may be!

Disclaimer: Pandora Hearts belongs to Jun Mochizuki.

* * *

Gilbert had been finding it harder and harder to awaken his master in the mornings. Some mornings he'd knock softly and enter to find the blonde curled on his side, whimpering helplessly.

Today was one such morning.

The window was open, passing a chill over the room, dimly lit with the cloudy light of autumn. The boy's clothes were discarded, thrown haphazardly along the wooden planks of the floor, indicative of a struggle with the temperature. Gil shivered from the chill as he reached the bed. His master's body was blushed red, and dressed in a simple pair of shorts he lay on top of the bed covers. His hair was matted to his forehead and Gil reached down to brush his fingertips over his skin to feel for a fever.

He was _freezing_.

At this touch, Oz released a shuttered breath and rolled over to his back. His breathing slowed again.

Gil sighed, concerned as ever over Oz's recurring nightmares.

The boy was startled when he heard the sound of the window shut.

"Oz, it's time to wake up." He blinked, turning tired eyes to his servant, almost groaning at the worried look he found there. Too bad his room didn't have a lock...

He'd been having nightmares night after night. He'd wake up even more tired than when he'd first lied down to rest. Last night he'd dreamt that he was still in the Abyss, that Alice was the Will. Her velvety voice whispered in his ear, her silvery white hair cascading down his arm, as she described with every last detail the death of his raven haired servant. How she'd plucked his eye out, plunging her fingernails through the soft tissue lining his socket, tearing the sensitive nerve from his brain...

He shivered. He hoped he'd forget that image soon. And why was it so _cold_?

Ah, right, he'd woken up early, too early, throwing his clothes off before yanking the window open in a fit of insanity.

Gil was staring at him, expectant and concerned. "I'm fine, Gil," he said, sitting up slowly and running his hands through his hair.

Gil blinked. He hadn't even asked if his master was okay. "Will you talk to me about it?"

"No."

_Ah_, he'd said that a little too quickly. He kept his head down so he wouldn't have to bear the burden of the hurt look he was surely being cast.

"I mean, it's nothing. Stop worrying so much, Gil. I'll meet you downstairs. Thank you for waking me up."

He continued to avoid those eyes.

He stood up, a bit embarrassed at how he was acting, and not to mention his state of undress. He felt disoriented, his mind still saturated with haunting gore. It wasn't _real._ Gil was always there to wake him up from his nightly struggles and he would always be there, those golden eyes of his best friend concerned and wide, and most importantly, still attached to his skull.

Gil exited quietly as Oz entered the restroom, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a moment. He squeezed his eyes shut, frustrated at his own helplessness.

"The brat on your mind again, hm?" Break's voice made him jump and he looked up too quickly, knocking his head into the raised panels of the door behind him. He gasped slightly, lifting a hand to rub at the bruising spot.

"What is it, Break?" He hissed, irritated at having been caught off guard.

"My, so cold. And here I was only concerned about you~!" Gil never liked that voice of Break's. He narrowed his eyes. Why does everyone he cares about have to act so _fake_?

Break saw in that look of annoyance a deeper understanding, a skepticism that could only be felt by someone who knew better of the pain that lined his conscience. This mask is his attempt to hide the presence of _Kevin_, an existence of years past who harbored the burden of strife that wasn't fair to share with his ojou-sama. And who better to understand this than Raven?

His grin grew, a genuine smile presenting itself on his lips, the reason lost to his companion.

"Don't _grin_ at me like that. Is there something you need?" He sighed inwardly, realizing he was releasing his frustration on his current companion. To be honest, in those ten years of utter solitude, Break was always there to keep him from losing himself completely. A best friend, an unspoken truce, a hope in a time where he was sure there was none. Someone to fill the void, to fill the monotony of training in the _meantime_... And things had been tense ever since his master escaped the Abyss.

He really was the worst kind of person.

Break let his mask fall for a minute, sensing the disturbance in Gil's mannerisms. He smiled softly, encouragingly, for this man had shown him kindness that was unknown to him in his many years of life. He swallowed the familiar bitter taste accumulating in his mouth, quickly remedying this by unwrapping a sweet and relishing in the sensation.

His eye traveled up the length of the raven's body, trying to make out the shape, the other seemingly battling a headache with the way he grimaced and rubbed at his temples.

Couldn't this man ever find relief? He felt a fleeting, stabbing resentment toward the blonde he'd come to adore.

The raven opened his eyes, blinking the pain away. He seemed surprised to see that the other was still there.

"Break?"

_Oh_. It wasn't often he spaced out like this.

"Ah, yes, that is -"

"Ohaiyo, Brea-" The blonde emerging from the door is cut off, "You!" A finger is jammed into the bridge of his nose, "Manservant, -" "_He's not your manservant!" "-_ where have you been? Sharon-nee says I can't eat until you arrive. And you!" She points toward Gil, "We're going to buy meat today!"

Oz smiled affectionately and reached out to pat her head. She huffed, her lips pouted, placing her hands on her hips in disapproval.

"Actually, Raven and I have important plans today~" Break cut in, grinning mischievously as he wrapped his arm around his friend's shoulders. Gil paled.

"Important...plans?"

"Important plans!" Emily chimed in.

Anything Break sounded entirely too enthusiastic about was never a good idea. Gil groaned inwardly. What a terrible morning. He cowered under the unrelenting arm of the clown.

Break's grin turned downright wicked. "Yes, _Raven_, we have a _date,_" he said, drawing out the word "date".

Gil blinked. "A- a _what?_"

Before he could react, the other was pulling him by the shoulders toward the front of the mansion. He looked behind him, pleading his innocence to the two figures behind them. He was surprised to see confusion, rather than amusement, on the blonde's face.

"B- Break, what are you _doing_?" He managed to pry the mad hatter's arm off his shoulders, now that they were in the downstairs corridor leading to the front doors of the mansion. He was too embarrassed to sound angry, however, and he hid his face in his hand as the other basked in his humiliation.

He leaned in, imagining how the other's face would redden further as he did so.

"Are you embarrassed about something, Ra_v-en_?" He teased, chuckling as he felt the other shiver as his hair tickled his cheek.

"Break!" Gil attempted to gain control over the situation. He refused to acknowledge his embarrassment. There's no reason for _Break_ of all people to be able to tease him like this! He was 24! Although, his 15 year old master had no problem embarrassing him and he did so daily, but Gil wasn't about to admit to this...

Break decided to take pity on the poor easily flustered man.

He popped another candy into his mouth, his grin disappearing, "Actually, Raven, you and I have a mission."

Oz stared at the retreating figures. Were they really going on... a... _date_? He swallowed. No, he should never take anything Break says seriously. He shook his head. He hoped Gil wasn't too angry with him for this morning.

"Oz, come _on._"

Oz and Alice made it to the breakfast parlor and only then did he realize how ravenously hungry he was. Those long nights of tossing and turning definitely took a toll on his body. He sat down, filling his plate with scones and bread rolls, frowning when he realized the lack of usual freshly made eggs and arrangement of meats his servant normally cooked for him.

He glanced over at the empty seat next to him. Wait. What was he, _five_? Gil couldn't _always _be around.

He saw Alice frown at the lack of meat and he sighed, smiling warmly at her from across the table.

"We can go out to buy meat, Alice, if you want, ne?"

Her eyes lit up and she stuffed a scone in her mouth, around which she managed an "Un!" and a nod.

She was so easy to please.

"Hey, Oz?"

"Hm?"

"What's a date?"

An image of Break and Gil alone in a carriage, sitting cozily together, _too _cozily, appeared in his mind and his cheeks reddened slightly. He put down the roll he was eating.

They weren't _really_ on a date. He was being ridiculous. And anyway, he'd rather them be on a date than for Gil to have another assignment. He hadn't had one in a while...

Plus, Gil could date whoever he wants.

"That's more of a question for Sharon-chan, Alice." He scratched nervously at the back of his head.

She "hmph"ed and he stood up, having lost his appetite, telling Alice to meet him in front of the mansion when she was finished. "And dress warmly this time," he added before shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Again, please review! I appreciate any and all feedback.


	2. II

A/N: Here is Chapter two. I want to make it clear that Break is blind in the story. Please let me know what you think, reviews are what keep me going.

Disclaimer: Pandora Hearts belongs to Jun Mochizuki.

* * *

Oz opened the front door of the mansion for Alice, exhausted but satisfied. Alice was no better off, in fact he walked closely behind her in case she couldn't quite make it inside.

"Konbanwa, Sharon-chan, Break-san," he said, tumbling over the armchair of the couch by the fire, sighing in contentment as the soft cushions yielded for his sore muscles.

"Konbanwa, Oz-kun, Alice-chan."

Wait, _Break_? He'd totally forgotten, and suddenly he felt a little guilty. The day turned out much more eventful than expected. Him and Alice left the mansion, took a carriage into town, and were welcomed by a festival they hadn't known about.

He felt the cushion beneath him shift as Alice sat down on the far side of the couch, still cradling her plush rabbit Oz won for her at a booth.

That dreaded feeling was pooling in his stomach again, and the suddenness of the assault had him struggling to sit up. But _why?_

"Where's Gil?" He said, hoping to sound conversational rather than desperate.

Break looked up toward Oz, sensing his aggravation. He didn't speak for a long moment, and Oz almost couldn't contain his impatience.

"Upstairs," he said, conveying in that one look the answer to Oz's questions.

He'd suspected as much.

His teeth clenched, his hands balled into fists. What was he _doing_ enjoying himself at a festival while Gil was... was...

He cursed colorfully. If it had been him, Gil would've done anything in his power to be by his side when he returned. He stood up, glaring pointedly at Break, as if it were his fault that Gil had another mission from Pandora.

He crossed the threshold, leaving the parlor room and slamming the doors behind him, cringing when he heard the hinges rattle. _How childish_.

He wished he could accompany his servant on his missions, having Alice fight instead of Gil. But that could never happen. To Pandora, he was untrustworthy, a mere illegal contractor only fit for the bottom of the barrel missions.

Gil was an elite now, having contracted with Raven. But he wasn't suited for combat.

Back in the parlor room, Sharon willed her heart to stop racing after Oz slammed the door. She studied Break from across the table and noticed the slight tremor in his hands. When he noticed her gaze, he smiled, "What is it, ojou-sama?"

The trembling stopped. Had she imagined it?

"It's nothing," she brushed it off, suddenly seeming small under his wise gaze. She went back to writing his report to Pandora based on his instructions.

Break struggled to maintain his composure, willing his mind to stay focused on writing the mission report. It wasn't as if he didn't care, it's that he's powerless to help Raven. He'd tried for years to assuage that void, to mesh it back into something whole, but to no avail. He would never be enough, but what Oz didn't realize is that he was more than enough.

Oz climbed the stairs as fast as he could, wobbling a bit on his overused feet. When he reached Gil's door he took a minute to catch his breath, willing himself to calm down. Maybe this time wouldn't be like the last, and grasping at that shred of hope, he knocked.

There was no response.

"Gil?" He tried to knock again, and the door opened a crack before his knuckles could make contact.

"Oz." The raven seemed surprised, blinking down at him blankly. "Do you need something?"

"May I come in?" He nodded in response, keeping his head down as he shut the door behind the blonde.

Oz noticed Gil's jacket, hat, and gun, strewn across the bed as if the other were in a hurry to divest himself of them.

He turned around, a hopeful chuckle in his voice, "Some date, huh?" He scratched the back of his head nervously.

Gil looked at him, his eyes distant, glossed over. He looked like he wanted to smile, but couldn't remember how.

_Shit._

He reached out, meaning to place his palm to his face, but Gil flinched, stepping backward until his back connected with the door.

"Don't touch me," he whispered weakly.

Oz's chest clenched painfully.

Gil looked down at his hands in horror, clenching his fingers to his palms a few times.

"Gil-"

"I can still feel her blood." He looked up, his golden eyes pleading with wide emeralds. " _I don't want you to see me like this._" He covered his eyes with his hand, grimacing as if in physical pain.

Since skin seemed to be off-limits, the blonde reached out to guide Gil by the sleeve to the washroom. "Let me help you."

Gil's eyes widened in reluctance, but he let himself be guided by his master. He didn't want to be touched, not by Oz, his innocent Oz. Wouldn't he be...contaminated? Cursed, like himself?

He refused to sit on a stool if that meant his master would sit on the floor, but he allowed the other to pull him to sit cross-legged on the cool tiles. He watched as he filled a bucket with warm bathwater, his face thoughtful but neutral. He took a moment to marvel at the confidence Oz always emitted, although he knew better, he seemed calm and collected, strong despite himself.

He never deserved a master like Oz.

The blonde lifted the bucket out of the tub, setting it to Gil's left as he knelt to sit back on his heels in front of his servant. Gil sat there, tense but perplexed, this time not stopping the other from touching his skin as Oz slid one of his hands between the two of his own.

They sat in comfortable silence as Oz worked to clean the imaginary blood off Gil's hands, taking his time to scrub under each fingernail and every crease. Gil was mesmerized, admiring the gentle touch of his master, the way his emerald eyes lit up as he deemed another finger clean, his blonde hair tickling his forehead and cheeks as he moved. His lips were pouted slightly, catching Gil's attention, and he studied that face, from his lips to his nose to those bright green eyes that were now staring back at him.

He looked away, embarrassed at having been caught staring. His cheeks felt warm.

Oz smiled at him before continuing.

The last time he'd been this close to Oz he...

Gil almost choked on the hopelessness that rippled through him, the rejection he'd learned to repress throughout his years of solitude. But this... this made that feeling fresh, an old wound inflamed and split open, the pain settling beneath the scar on his chest.

"_I like girls, Gil."_

And suddenly he didn't want Oz this close because he was selfish, so selfish. His thoughts were impure, even more so now that they'd had ten years to brew. The rejection he felt at this moment was so intense he would've let out a horrified sob had he been alone.

He worked against the contraction of his diaphragm, focusing on keeping his breathing steady. He had no control over his other muscles though, and he could feel himself shivering. He hid his expression behind a curtain of hair.

Oz continued to hold Gil's right hand in his left, the trembling propagating down his arm, while he used his other hand to brush the hair out of Gil's eyes.

"Gil? Please look at me." He looked up, his expression empty. Oz swallowed thickly. He didn't know what was wrong. He could only continue to try to comfort him until he was willing to talk. "Where else is there blood?"

His mouth opened but he closed it, not saying anything. Oz inwardly sighed affectionately at how difficult his servant was being. He was probably thinking he didn't deserve his help. He really hadn't changed much at all in these years, other than the obvious signs of maturity.

He used one finger to lift Gil's chin up to his level, remembering how he'd flinched earlier when he tried to touch his cheek. He soaked a washcloth in the warm water and brought it up to trace the features of his friend's face, holding his hair back with the other hand.

Gil closed his eyes. His face grew hot at the touch, embarrassed and vulnerable. But this was _Oz._

The trembling decreased over time as he focused on Oz's ministrations. Suddenly there was no warmth at all but he kept his eyes closed, feeling drowsy.

He jumped when he felt Oz's forehead on his. This closeness was too much. He wanted to run but he also wanted to bask in it. His master's affection was suffocating and yet not enough.

"Are you ready to talk to me yet?"

His eyes widened and suddenly reality crashed over him in a thick wave, Oz's concern snapping him out of his daze. Images of the day flooded back to him and he held back a whimper.

He swallowed, the sound loud in his ears, and he almost didn't trust himself to speak. But _Oz_ was asking him, _Oz_ wanted to know.

"I... I killed her. At point blank. I had to, she was... was going to kill me." The only response was the other's hand tangling through the black hair dangling between their faces.

"She was... she was only a little girl. Her seal was complete. It was so loud," he covered his ears, remembering with surprising clarity the wail he heard, "So loud. Break... Break couldn't hear. He couldn't help me and I... had to end it." The trembling was back, and he willed it to stop, failing as it propagated through Oz's body.

"Gil." The raven waited, his mind going blank, waiting for the scolding, the hatred, the accusation of selfishness.

"I'm happy that you protected yourself. What would I do if my prized servant went and died?"

Gil pulled his forehead away from the other to look at him in disbelief. Surely he was jesting.

Oz smiled warmly, though, adoration for his servant apparent and Gil was dumbfounded, a childish pride demanding presence.

That's...it?

"Gil, I'll accept anything you do. You're my best friend. It's not conditional."

_Anything?_ And suddenly Gil thought back to eleven years ago...

Oz saw the other sink into himself again, and his smile weakened. What is it that he didn't know?

But he wouldn't get to know because suddenly Gil was leaning on him, his body exhausted from the emotional and physical toll. He shifted his weight slightly, unable to stay comfortable on the hard bathroom floor.

"Hey," he poked his forehead, "you can't sleep here."

He groaned into Oz's neck, "Mm," he forced himself up to sitting, "Sorry."

Oz, satisfied now that it seemed Gil could rest, helped him up and bid him goodnight. He went to sleep, ignoring the unease teasing at his thoughts.

* * *

A/N: Poor Gil. =(

**A/N 6/1/12: Hi everyone, I am not abandoning this story. I'm sorry it's taking me so long to update, I've just finished with another semester at school and started a new job. I've also been distracted by other things (Diablo III, other fanfics). I have plenty of notes on this story and I hope to have another chapter out soon! Thank you to everyone who has story alerted, favorited, and reviewed. I love reading your reviews. =3**


	3. III

**A/N:** Hello, I'm back. I suck. I was really excited about this story but then I sort of lost my way, got distracted by various things (Death Note fanfiction). As much as I love L and his sweet autistic tendencies, Gilbert is my favorite of all time. I am actually quite glad that I read something other than Pandora Hearts and Kuroshitsuji fanfics for a while. I needed a change to keep my mind on track. Not to mention I also started a new job, had to finish up exams. What a terrible time to start a new fic.

But anyway, I am going in a completely different direction with this fic. There will actually be a plot, which doesn't even start in this chapter yet. I guess I need to build up to it. This will be an **alternate universe** with some definite** spoilers** from the manga, but the timeline may not be correct and the events that take place in this story will definitely not follow the manga. Because this is my story. Thank you so much to anyone who reviewed/story alerted/favorited. It's you who keep me writing. If I hadn't received any reviews last chapter I probably never would have cared to update this. I will try to update as soon as possible. I don't plan to wait a month before updating... whoops. Well without further ado, here is Vice.

* * *

Solitude is an oppressive emotion. A weight, heavy and unrelenting, an innocent nagging sensation stemming from the chest to the neurons innervating the brain. Was this emotion physical or mental, or both? Numbness accumulates as this solitude gains power, leaving apathy and a permanent nausea in its wake.

Gilbert knew this feeling well.

He understood the notion of solitude even in the most rambunctious of crowds. It settled within, causing his very joints to ache as he contemplated whether the severe exhaustion as a result of social interaction was even worth it. If he felt alone with or without people, surely there was no point.

This hopelessness is one he'd only begun to know when he'd lost his master and settled into the lifestyle of the Nightrays. He was expected to be present at parties, many parties, with others shallow and judgmental. Being a noble was tiring, reputation based on appearance rather than personality or achievements.

Since he'd been reinstated as a servant of the Vessalius family – no, of Oz – he'd (fortunately) lost his welcome to those parties. As an adopted member of the Nightray family, it was a wonder why he'd ever been welcome in the first place.

He was thankful to the family, surely, but he spent his adolescent years without Oz training, dissociated from anyone and everyone around him. Only a small handful – no, even less than a handful – of people knew him at anything akin to a personal level. And one of those people had died, ruined and knee deep in his own blood and regrets, alone as he labored to breathe those last breaths. Elliot truly was a little brother to him, a charm beneath the facade of arrogant apathy. And then there was Vincent, a brother in a life he couldn't remember, who'd welcomed him with an embrace that left Gil uneasy. At the time, he couldn't remember being embraced by anyone who wasn't Oz (and then only once or twice). Having this false attachment made him feel unfaithful, dirtied, but if dirtying himself was a way to get Oz back, then so be it...

This solitude eventually became something he reveled in. Without the solitude, there was a sense of disorientation. He only knew himself as a lonesome creature, so what was he to make of a Gil that had a place to belong?

Gil was sure he had some masochistic tendencies, when the thought of purposefully alienating himself became one of solace.

Those masochistic tendencies, in the present moment, made themselves known as he politely turned down the third young woman for a dance.

He was in the ballroom of the Rainsworth mansion, strategically placed near the spiked punch bowl. He refilled his cup just as it was on the brink of emptiness, because heaven forbid he be sober for this particular party.

This particular party included a certain blonde, dressed in white – _how fitting_ – carelessly twirling about the dance floor with girl after girl, with the graceful movement of a trained noble.

Gilbert looked on proudly (of his master's skills, of course) but sulkily, gulping down another crystal glass of punch and suppressing the desire to escape to the comforts of the nearest balcony with a cigarette between his lips.

He turned his eyes in half interest to his new companion who plopped herself down in the seat next to him, gnawing heatedly on an hors d'oeurve.

He noticed his vision was beginning to tunnel, but he refilled his glass again despite his apparent buzz.

Alice mumbled something under her breath, her mouth stuffed to the brim with food.

He almost smiled. His drunkenness dulled the pain of his solitude. At least it seemed he and Alice had something in common tonight.

He followed her narrowed eye gaze, but it didn't lead to his master as expected. Instead, she was sulking in the general direction of Break and Sharon.

Too fargone and apathetic to pursue the issue, he, in a mindless fit of camaraderie, placed his hand affectionately on her head. She turned to face him thoughtfully, a gesture that made it seem as though she only now realized who she had sat next to.

"Seaweed-head, dance with me." He blinked, opened his mouth in retort at one, having been called seaweed head, two, for commanding him, and three, to say no, but then shut it again.

Despite how aggravating the stupid rabbit was on a daily basis, as well as his ever-growing resentment toward her leeching the life out of Oz, his irritability toward her let up slightly when he saw Oz wasn't the target of her pointed glares this particular night. For once, he thought, he had no reason to be jealous. He blinked again, the alcohol slowing his thought processes down considerably. That was a thought he was glad didn't occur to him while he was sober.

"Hai, baka-usagi." He stood up, planting his feet so he wouldn't wobble, feeling hot blood rush in the sides of his neck. He bowed, one arm behind his back, the other reaching toward her with deliberate, almost sarcastic, politeness. "Would you care to dance?"

She snorted, hopping off her seat, taking his hand, and marching him over to the dance floor. He looked after her, in her pretty blue satin dress with white lace accents. Sharon had fashioned her hair into pigtails with elaborate lace bows, and she had on white lace gloves reaching to her elbows. He would almost think she's a lady.

Almost.

Well, at least Oz would be happy that he's for once being "nice" to Alice, as he calls it.

He was surprised to find that the chain knew how to dance, albeit not as graceful a movement as Oz's, but she was pleasantly allowing him to lead her and following as appropriate.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he toyed with the idea that Oz may have taught her to dance, but he didn't want to think about that.

Her earlier irritation seemed to have dwindled considerably with their movements, but her expression was not one of delight.

"Hey, Seaweed-head?"

"Hn." No use arguing about her addressment of him now.

"Why do people dance together?"

The question hung in the air a few moments as he tried to ascertain what she meant by such a question.

"I suppose they dance for fun."

"But you wouldn't dance with someone you didn't like, would you?"

Is this a trap?

"I suppose not, Alice."

"Then does Seaweed-head like me?"

"Wh-what?" It was the alcohol in his blood that kept him from blanching and terminating the dance early.

Was Alice really implying -

"Why can't two girls dance together?" He blinked. She'd been catching him off guard a lot this evening. "Sharon-nee-chan told me it is improper for two people of the same gender to dance. Is that true?"

"W-well, according to tradition dancing is done between a male and a female."

"Oh. I see," she paused, as if letting the information soak in, then, "This doesn't mean I like you, Seaweed-head."

He sighed, perplexed, but unwilling to follow through with the conversation.

"Baka-usagi," he muttered.

* * *

Gilbert later stumbled through the halls of the mansion, eyes half closed in severe alcohol-induced exhaustion. His stomach flip flopped and his abdominal muscles contracted threateningly.

If he were sober, he would've mused momentarily the thought that he was always filled to capacity with poisons – alcohol, tobacco, _Oz_...

Yes, he was a poison. He threatened the balance that was solitude and pride, turning Gilbert into a muddled mess of insecurities.

But all he knew right now was that it was so _hot_ and all he needed was to strip, find a bed, a bucket, a pail of water -

He found the first familiar bedroom door and leaned up against it with a soft _thump_. His vision was beginning to blacken around the edges – _just how much did he drink?_ - and the walls seemed to spin as he couldn't keep his eyes on any one spot.

He hadn't drank this much in a long time. This mind-numbingly blank drunkenness he was surely going to regret in the morning.

Hopefully he hadn't done anything _too _stupid in front of any of the guests at the party. He couldn't quite remember what he did for all those hours after dancing with that rabbit...

The door he was leaning on opened inward, and he slid pathetically to the floor. His head was spared the hard wood by settling onto something soft...

* * *

"Ah, Raven," he cooed, nudging the lump with his boot. Highly amused by the severe intoxicated state his friend was in, he reached down and grabbed Raven by the back of his collar and hoisted him up to his knees. "Always a sight to see you drunk. Are you trying to sneak into my bed?"

"'M not drunk," he slurred. He reached up, groaning, grabbing the sides of Break's pant legs and buried his face inbetween the elder's thighs. Break giggled at the suggestiveness that was lost to the other.

How delightful.

As much as he would've enjoyed having Oz walk by at this very moment to see the two of them engaged in this way in the doorway of his bedroom, he thought better of it, and reached under Raven's arms to hoist (or mostly drag) the other into his room. He dropped him on the armchair next to his bed, draping his limbs about the chair in an attempt to balance him. Raven slumped downward, groaning a little appreciatively at the give of the cushions.

He stood there for a moment in amusement, admiring his work, before trudging to the washroom to find a bucket and to fill a glass of water.

He wondered what Raven would think tomorrow when he realized he had to pass his own room to find Break's...

When he returned the man was still sitting as he'd left him. He couldn't resist reaching out and ruffling his hair (his ribbon must've somehow fallen out), and Raven blinked up at him, his yellow gold eyes bewildered and half-lidded.

"Don't try anything perverted while my guard's down, Break." He accepted the glass of water from the other, gulping it down audibly.

Break grinned, but toned his expression to one of innocence when Raven looked up again.

"Now when have I ever tried anything perverted, Raven, hm?" Now Break knew this topic was off-limits to a sober Raven, but it was worth asking for the sputter and the blush that would be obvious if his face wasn't already flushed. The other glared at him for a brief moment before forgetting his anger in favor of relieving the spinning of the room. He got up, stumbled a couple feet before falling face first onto the bed, at least aiming correctly for the pillows at the headboard.

Break watched, it was like watching a toddler learn to walk. It was no use teasing him now, but there would always be tomorrow...

He sighed and reached out, helping the other out of his shoes and socks, before reaching around his shoulders to pull his coat off. His hat was perched askew on top of the pillows and he hung it over the bedpost.

He climbed in himself on the other side of the bed, sure the other was passed out by now. He settled in, feeling his breathing slow – how late _was _it anyway?

"Break," he was broken of his stupor.

"Mm, Raven?"

"Oz," he said, his tone exhausted and desperate.

Break blinked tiredly. "What about Oz?"

No response. He felt himself slipping again.

"Oz was with a girl."

He felt a pang of... jealousy? Betrayal in the stead of his friend? Dread. "Yes, Oz danced with a lot of girls, Raven."

"No."

No?

"The balcony... I saw them... her hair... red... freckles..."

Break was fully awake now, anxiety spreading like ice through his diaphragm and into his extremities. He turned so he faced the other, surprised when he found Raven's face so close to his own.

_Don't think about Oz, Raven_, he thought. He studied the other's face to the best of his abilities: so young, yet so old in its expression of tired pain. He had to look to the side in order to see any details, using his peripheral vision to try to discern his features. His black hair fell in short waves over his face, fanning over where the right side of his head rested on the pillow. His normally porcelain cheeks were dusted pink, and his yellow gold eyes were narrowed, pleading with his own broken red eye. He turned his gaze ahead to the other's, his features suddenly blurred once again into a mess of white and black.

Maybe if he could see he would have been able to prevent it, but...

He felt warm lips on his. He stifled a gasp. He should've expected this. It wasn't the first time he was used to fill that void. But he hadn't realized just how much he _missed _this. This kiss wasn't passionate or loving, only desperate and pleading. He pressed back against his will, feeling hands grasp his cheeks and a tongue sweep along the seam of his lips. He opened his mouth, allowing one hand to tangle in raven locks and the other to press their bodies together.

But once he felt a hand slide down his spine to settle below his lower back, he pulled away, panting slightly. Raven's breath tasted heavily of alcohol, and he refused to take advantage of his intoxicated state.

The hands on his body slackened in the few minutes following the kiss, and he heard soft snores erupt to his left.

He wondered, turning to face the wall, how it is that the same kiss that calmed Raven's mind could do the exact opposite to himself.

He shivered, now emptier and more frigid than ever, eventually settling to the sound of soft snores into a restless sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** I thought I'd make Oz a bit experienced as this is how he comes off to me in the manga/anime. I didn't think it made sense for him to suddenly begin a relationship with an adult when he's completely naive and inexperienced. Of course, I heavily believe in the importance of "firsts" and faithfulness and such, so he is only experienced to a point.

I also put in a smidgen of something else that I do not want to talk about yet because I don't want to spoil it. Hint: Alice.

Poor Gil. Poor Break. Please review!


	4. IV

**A/N:** Hello everyone, and thank you so much to anyone who reviewed, PMed me, story alerted, and favorited! I love it when I see story alerts but I will update quicker if people review!

This chapter has some gore, so be warned. I don't know why, but I refuse to write a multi-chapter story without romance, gore, and angst. I guess that tells you what kind of strange person I am. I intended to make this chapter longer, but I decided that even a shorter chapter update was worth it. I've had little time to update lately, but here I am anyway. This chapter has a teensy bit of plot if you squint. It is almost upon us. Thank you for following!

* * *

Gilbert awoke to a muted knocking. He squinted, blinking groggily. He was alone in the bed, but – wait, why was this strange? And... this wasn't his bed. Jerking to a sitting position, blinking away the stars and ignoring the cotton feel of his mouth, he took full advantage of the sudden adrenaline rush and –_ oh, thank kami-sama_ _for the hidden servant's door connecting Break's room to his own_ – jerked the doorknob with as much force as he could muster. The wood squeaked in underused protest, but finally relented under the force and he slid out of the crack. Another knock.

He quickly secured the door and, hoping he hadn't taken too long, finally wrenched the door to his room open.

Oz was standing there, his fist hanging uselessly in the air in mid-knock. When he saw Gil he beamed, taking in the other's disheveled appearance.

"Ohaiyo, Giru~!"

Gil became terribly aware of his current hangover now that the adrenaline rush began to fade. In its place, it left fatigue, nausea, confusion, a pounding headache, and a severe case of cottonmouth.

So instead of replying, he grunted and smiled sheepishly down at his charge, whose bright smile was currently exacerbating the ache.

He didn't understand at that moment why he had let himself drink so much – why he _always_ let himself drink so much.

He remembered then with unfortunate clarity the gnawing dread of the party that put him in this situation.

If he had known then the events that would take place later on that day, he would've sobered up immediately.

Oz sighed, partly exasperated and partly out of affection for his troublesome servant. Gil's eyes were half-lidded and glossy as he peered down at him in the doorway. A small smile was on his lips, but it was clear to the blonde that the other was in pain.

"Can I come in?"

Gil moved aside and he brushed by, his gaze immediately trailing over the bed.

"Did you... sleep on your covers last night, Gil?"

"Eh? Ah- ah, yeah."

Oz stared at him while the raven scratched at his head. Gil was a terrible liar, and he had clearly seen the evidence of the other's sneaking around due to the slightly ajar door behind the dresser.

He felt a minor eruption of nervous energy vibrate through his limbs and he paced, drawing confidence from the suddenly flustered, guilty appearance of his servant.

He mused briefly that Gil's easily flustered states were actually becoming a great way to _mask_ his guilt, since they occurred so often even when Gil _hadn't_ done anything to merit the emotion.

But he wasn't here, for once, to harass Gil.

Although, he pouted, he was hoping he'd be able to tease the other awake, blushing and sputtering, but his plans were thwarted by the normally unlocked locked door.

If Oz were to follow that thought any further he might've realized that despite his numerous evil tease-Gil-before-breakfast sessions, Gil still left his door unlocked (although those sessions were rare and far-between, seeing as how the elder man was usually the one to wake him up).

"Oz?"

Ah, yes, he was here for another reason.

"Gil, we have another mission."

"We?"

"We."

He let that sink in, watching the emotions flit across the other's features. He knew what this meant – Gil insisted he refuse missions in order to preserve his life, to delay the ticking of the clock on his chest. But Oz always refused. He felt he had a duty to himself to know the truth about his connection to the Abyss. Why was he thrown into its perils? Was the intention to kill him, isolate him, change his timeline, or to alter something in the Abyss?

If the culprit wanted him dead, he was a fifteen year old with minimal defense skills and at the time he wasn't attached to a certain black rabbit with impressive scythe skills... He wasn't stupid. And thus he had to know.

And his promise to Alice loomed ever presently in the front of his mind. In some ways, this promise held more weight than his own desire for information.

And Gil could never understand that. His overwhelming desire to please Alice, a chain he's only known a matter of months, but rather _not_ a chain, yet another _human being._ She meant more to him than Gil's silly concerns over his life.

Something like pain flitted over the raven's face and Oz's stomach tightened in response.

He was used to this lately. They'd been working together on many Pandora missions as of recent.

He stopped pacing, tied his hands together behind his back and took long, slow, deliberate strides over to the constantly distressed man.

He reached out, a smile spread across his lips, patting Gil on the head – _just like old times –_ and ruffling his soft black seaweed hair to boot.

"Giru~, you'll be there to protect me, ne?"

Gil blushed, his eyes widening at the implied praise.

"Hai, Oz," his expression softening and the corners of his mouth upturning in a slight smirk before adding, "bocchan."

Oz grinned, taking this as his cue to leave. Gil hadn't even changed from the dress clothes he wore to the party aside from removing his cravat and untucking his shirt. He fought the teasing remark he had on his tongue because, oddly, it left a bitter taste in its wake.

He refused to look anywhere but at the other's face (which was difficult seeing as how his eyesight was level with the raven's chest, which was strikingly porcelain white, contrasting only slightly with the white top edge of his unbuttoned collar) due not to embarrassment – there's no _way_ that _Oz Vessalius_ would feel _embarrassment_ – but to the _disorientation_ of finding a much older Gil in an unusual state of dishevelment.

"I'll meet you in the dining hall, Gil," he said, re-linking his hands behind his back in a confident, playful manner.

Gil nodded, ran a hand through his hair, then sauntered over to his dresser as Oz turned to leave.

"Eto, Giru," Oz's back faced him as he stood in the doorway, fingers lingering in the short blonde hair at the nape of his neck. Gil studied him, perplexed at the tone. "If you... need somewhere to go, you know, at night, you can always uh... sleep with me."

Oz refused to believe that he – _Oz Vessalius! -_ could possibly be red in the face at this present moment.

"You know, like old times," he added, desperate to ease his awkwardness. He didn't wait for a reply, choosing instead to shut the door behind him without turning around.

* * *

Gil stood there, dropping the white shirt he was holding, and his jaw, to the floor in shock.

Oz... _knew._

He sighed, guilt seemingly becoming the primary emotion for this day.

* * *

*Later that day*

Gil gasped aloud in a violent struggle against the invisible force that knocked the air out of his lungs. He attempted to move, but his nerve endings were aflame and his arms were more than likely damaged from the impact of hitting the concrete wall. He was sure he'd hit his head, though his back took the brunt of the force, and he gulped the air in small quantities, his mouth open in a silent scream. He felt a warm liquid drip down the back of his neck, lulling him into unconsciousness. He struggled, his eyesight blurry and delayed.

This illegal contractor's chain took him off guard with its strength. It had the ability to change one's direction, a previously unknown ability. He'd thrust himself in the direction of Oz's shout, but he couldn't _see_ him. He was disoriented, behind a wall, maybe even as much as a block away. The damage to the area was devastating. The block of rubble that stretched between one street and the next left no room for accurate mapping of his surroundings. All he could hear was that voice and as he thrust himself in that direction, he was suddenly even farther away. His back made a sickening impact with a previously undamaged wall, his foot hanging uselessly from hooking a lamp post on his brief sail through the air.

He'd never been caught off guard like this. Was there a reason these chains were suddenly becoming stronger?

Gil crumpled uselessly on the ground below his impact site. Slumped over, his head feeling heavier than he could ever remember, he battled the white patches in his vision to try to discern his location.

"_Gil, you'll be there to protect me, ne?"_

As if on cue, a heartwrenching cry broke through his misery, and with it came a second wind. The pain in his body dulled to a low throb, and he forced himself to stand up. His vision tunneled, blackening threateningly, but _Oz._

Forty meters? No, forty-six meters ahead.

He dragged his limp foot forward, a numbness alerting him to the severity of the fracture. He had to glance down briefly to ascertain whether the extremity was still _there_ or not.

He propelled himself through the rubble, using his momentum to push forward. He'd make it, there was no other option.

His leg buckled suddenly beneath him and he tumbled forward, able to protect his face with his hands, but he cried out -

Yes, that was blood spilling in sickening pulses, in time with the beats of his failing heart, out of the inner thigh of his pants. A beam, a rod of metal, sliced through his femoral artery. He lay there gasping, the weight of the situation bearing down on him as he came to the realization that -

He was bleeding to death.

He was going to die and he wasn't even able to protect Oz.

The blood pooled around his lower half too quickly, a drain of his remaining life, and for the first time he realized just how _mortal_ he was.

Despite his apparent invincibility standing before his master with his gun, his chain the legendary Raven, he was still mortal.

He could still lay here, sprawled on the ground of rubble he'd failed to protect, soaked in his own blood and tears and sweat and defeat, his senses dulling as his eyes closed involuntarily -

No.

That boy, who gave him life when he had none, might be struggling to live as well.

He blinked, his eyesight suddenly clearer than he could remember. He pushed off the ground with his hands, reaching down to cradle the wound in his inner thigh.

But the blood had stopped spilling out.

With no time to marvel at the speed of his blood clotting, he dragged himself to his knees and then back to his feet.

He could walk.

He smiled, an incredulous, unbelieving smile. Like a breath of fresh air in an otherwise carbon monoxide filled room.

And he ran.


	5. V

**A/N:** I know, I suck, it's been like, what, two weeks? Now I'm finally updating and this chapter is pretty short. I'll try to make up for it. I've been distracted by work, other anime (No. 6, Fate/Zero, K-On), Death Note fanfics (L!), and other various things...like maybe socializing. But only a little. On a random note, has anyone realized that Oz/Gil is way less weird than Break/Gil, considering the age difference? Break is super old despite his body. Hm. I can't seem to find Oz/Gil weird at all, although I realize they are 9 years apart. I guess it's Oz's maturity level? Oz isn't overly naive or ignorant of the world. I can see him having a real naughty streak. Of course, he is quite oblivious if he doesn't know Gil's feelings toward him, but anyway...

As always, please review! I love reviews because I can tell how much you actually like the story. Even if you want to leave a critical review, please do. I'm new to writing and honestly I write fanfiction partially because I have an overly active imagination but mostly because I want to improve my writing. So yes, please review. I don't care if you review just to say, "I like your story. Potato." That's totally cool with me. I just love feedback. It is always exciting to get favorites and alerts, but not nearly as exciting as getting a review. Thank you for everyone who follows this story. I'm done with my little author note essay. Onto chapter five.

* * *

Oz ducked behind the rubble of a concrete building, shielding himself in the corner between two partially destroyed walls. He gasped for breath, mostly unharmed, but quickly losing endurance. There was a sharp, aggravating pain in his side, but he paid it no mind. Alice, as the B-Rabbit, was in a bit of a pinch. Who would have known that the strength of the vector chain would lure another chain of equal strength?

Was it just a coincidence?

His breath caught up with him just as he had to launch his body forward to another piece of rubble to escape the next attack. He cursed his inability to fight – maybe he should take up guns, like Gil?

Speaking of Gil, where was he...

Oz felt panic rise up in his gut as he whipped his head around to find his servant. If Gil got hurt, or worse died, while protecting him he'd...

No.

He tried to ease his concerns, remembering the promise he made to his servant to protect himself.

A particularly vicious attack knocked Alice back, launching her at least two stories into the air until she landed with a sickening _crunch_.

"Alice!"

Oz ran to assist her, but a projectile launched via vector interrupted his movements. He ran away from her, hoping to give her time to recover as he distracted the two chains.

He threw his body around the wall, planning his next move.

How could this situation have escalated so quickly? Would this be... his last mission?

With his heart thumping out of his chest, he darted across the intersection and at the same time reached into his holster for the gun he barely knew how to use.

He was small, quick, and clever, but he couldn't fight. He cursed. Why did he have to be so dependent?

He contemplated calling for back up, but without Sharon's chain that wasn't possible. No one had expected a fight this difficult.

Just as he was taking another step, his foot didn't connect with the ground. He stumbled forward, slipping, the ground suddenly farther away than before. His feet were locked in place, and he struggled, trying to kick his boots off but they were steadily gaining weight. His boots were soaked, filling with water, and soon the water began traveling up his shorts to his shirt. He gasped, his face contorting with panic. The water was _heavy_, denser than any liquid he's known and he felt as if he were being consumed by sludge.

_Oh kami_, Oz thought, _I'm going to die here and I won't be able to protect anyone_.

The sludge reached his chest and his breaths became ragged and shallow as he struggled to breathe against the crushing weight. The liquid was surrounding him, forming a ball of water at least four feet off the ground. It reached his neck, strangling him hopelessly.

All thoughts ceased at the moment the water filled his mouth, then covered his nose, and soon his lungs were burning, filling with liquid. He wanted to scream, his mouth open and gaping helplessly. And it _hurt_. Black and white spots erupted behind his unfocused vision, his limbs aching and twitching with oxygen deprivation.

_Gil,_ he thought, succumbing to unconsciousness.

The raven was in a frenzy. Aware now of the predicament his master was in, not to mention the disappearance of Alice, his vision turned to red.

He'd taken too much time. He had no _right_ to allow himself to get hurt when his master was battling for his life, unprotected. Had he failed? How long had Oz been submerged?

He managed to distract the chain long enough for the liquid to disperse, and he lunged himself across the street to catch the falling boy.

The two chains loomed over them menacingly. He shot the one that had wounded him earlier, staggering it momentarily. The other laughed, a horrible high pitched piercing cackle that pierced his eardrums.

"Oz!" He held the soaked boy over his lap, pressing his ear to his chest. Blood and water became a haunting pink, dripping down to stain the boy's shirt.

He couldn't worry about the chains when Oz wasn't _breathing_ and he placed him on his back on the ground, kneeling over him on his knees. Tears of desperation burned trails down his cheeks and he shook his head, dislodging them from his vision, creating a shower of blood with the movement.

If he could somehow revive Oz before the next attack...

He couldn't _think_ because Oz was dying, here in his arms _drowning_. And why _live_ if Oz was _dead_?

One of the chains drifted into his line of vision and he felt it. The fear of his life ending, for a second time that day, the threat of an eternal death. A burden he wasn't ready to bear, not here, not when he hadn't even protected his master.

He tried to work fast, briefly aware of his pathetic display. The chains loomed, mocking him, laughing, suspending their attack if only to prolong their amusement at his misfortune.

He placed his palm over Oz's diaphragm, pushing rhythmically. It wasn't enough.

He shook more tears from his eyes and placed his hands on either side of the boy's face.

Oz's features were lax, his lips slightly parted, as if he were merely sleeping...

Gil choked at that thought, releasing his hesitation and pressing his mouth to the other's, breathing life into him through those soft lips, down his precious windpipe and into the fragile alveoli of his lungs.

Tears and blood dripped onto his face, staining his blonde hair red.

"Stop!" He heard, somewhere distant, a command he didn't process. The chains were no longer looming...

Gil sat up and continued to palm his diaphragm, beginning an alternating cycle of breathing air into him and pressing on his chest.

How long had it been – thirty seconds? One minute? Five minutes?

He let out a groan of anguish, and just as he was about to lose hope, he felt a jolt under his mouth. Oz sat up coughing, sputtering, water dribbling down his chin and pouring onto the sidewalk next to him.

Gil sobbed with relief, hating himself for his weakness, choking on his tears. He buried his face into Oz's chest, delighting in the heartbeat that thundered in his ear.

"G-Gil? What...happened?"

The raven just shuttered, choking on another sob, burying his face even more into his collarbone.

"It's...it's okay now, Gil."

"S-sorry, Oz." Feeling slightly silly at Oz's bewildered, awkward words of comfort, he raised his head and smiled weakly.

"Gil, is this -" Oz faltered, his expression turning to one of shock, "Is this your blood?"

He pushed away slightly, alarmed at the sheer volume of blood drenching the other's – and now his own – clothes.

"Y-yeah, but I'm fine."

Oz didn't look convinced. "Gil-"

"I'm honestly fine, Oz, it's you I'm worried about. Where's Alice?"

They both stood up, Gil wobbling almost as much as Oz, but clutching the boy's shoulders to keep him upright. Oz eyed a long tear in his servant's pants, only slightly hidden by his long trenchcoat.

He slid down to one knee, fingering at it, "Are you...hurt anywhere, Gil?" He said, obviously finding no wound.

"N-no." Gil felt entirely too awkward about Oz's hands near his inner thigh.

Oz stood up again, seeing stars momentarily but blinking them away.

"What happened to the chains?" He finally asked the obvious question.

Gil sighed, "I think they retreated, for now."

"Did you see either of the masters?"

"N-no, I was...distracted..."

Oz's expression softened, but then turned dark.

"Alice," His eyes were wide, "She was... she was here, come on, Gil!"

Gil stared after him blankly for a moment, wondering how it is that the boy could nearly drown but still have the strength to run.

That is, before his legs gaveve out and Gil caught him by the shoulders before he could give himself a concussion to top it off.

By the time he could lug the now unconscious boy over his shoulders, onto his back, and find Alice, he found Equus in her shadow. Apparently they had taken long enough to warrant a check up by Sharon.

"There is already a carriage on the way," she said, after he relayed to her the major details of the fight. He nodded, grateful, exhaustion catching up to him as his vision began to warp.

Oz blinked his eyes open groggily, aware of movement beneath his feet and a warmth on his shoulder. His whole body felt heavy and cold, a result of his muscles being deprived of oxygen for too long. He snuggled into the warmth, sighing, but as his body became more aware of his surroundings he realized that it was a _person_ and that they must be in the carriage on their way home. Alice was asleep on the bench across from himself, her face turned away and her chest moving steadily up and down with deep even breaths.

Gil's hair was scratchy, full of dried...blood? Dirt, definitely. But he didn't mind. The hair mixed with dirt caked on his forehead indicated he was in a similar boat.

He was suddenly aware of the sharp pain in his side, aggravated by the tiny movements of the carriage and the combined weight of his servant. He tried to ignore it, but minutes later he was gritting his teeth and attempting to remove Gil's weight without waking him.

He grunted in his sleep, a low whine that brought a smile to Oz's face despite himself. If there was one time that Gil was grumpy (besides when he didn't have his cigarettes) it was when he was interrupted from sleep.

"Hey, Gil..." He pushed the grumbling mass gently.

Gil blinked sleepily, and upon realizing the situation, retreated guiltily, grumbling an apology.

"S-sorry, Oz." He reassembled himself against the window.

_He must be really tired,_ Oz thought.

His expression was guilty and Oz sighed internally. Gil always misread his intentions.

"No, I'm just...something hurts is all."

Gil blinked over at him in sudden concern. "What is it?"

"It's just...my side. Don't worry about it. I probably broke something is all."

"Oz -"

"Don't apologize for something that isn't your fault." He offered Gil a small smile, rendering any argument useless.

Gil nodded and settled back against the window. Oz followed, leaning on him instead, still aware of how ridiculously cold he was. The other jumped at the sudden affection. It was probably only an accident that had Gil leaning on him earlier...

Their eyes shut, but before either one could fall entirely asleep, their fingers brushed. Gil's eyes jolted open and he pushed Oz off him before reaching around himself.

"Gil, what -"

He pulled his trenchcoat off himself and encased Oz in its warmth, pulling him close.

"You're freezing. You know, you should really _tell _me these things."

"Mm, hai," Oz said, sleepily against Gil's chest. He fell asleep, engrossed in the scent of Gil, and he thought, in one of those brief exhaustion-induced moments of realization, that it was probably his favorite scent in the world.

* * *

**A/N:** Review, please! I will update soon.


	6. VI

**A/N:** Not all that much happens in this chapter, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. I already have some ideas for the near future so hm... Also thank you so much for the reviews, favorites, alerts!

* * *

**Chapter 6: Recovery**

Oz awoke later that evening to the fresh scent and gentle pattering of rain. It fell in rivulets along the edges of his window panes, succumbing to gravity just as the ache of his muscles tempted him to do. But he wasn't tired anymore.

The blonde sat up shakily, careful not to aggravate his now bandaged wound (two broken ribs on his left side, Sharon diagnosed). He placed his hands to one side and carefully shifted his weight forward, gritting his teeth. The pain wasn't quite piercing anymore, but now a dull, sore, relentless ache. Not to mention the fatigue of most, if not all, muscles in his body. But it was manageable.

He surveyed his settings, locating a grandfather clock beside his bed to his left, but it was too dark to see the time. He wondered if he truly slept deep into the night or if the rain clouds were tricking his perception.

Blinking, his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. His eyes fell on the subject – or rather sub_jects_ – asleep on the couch to his right. _Heh,_ he thought, and grinned, all pain forgotten.

Alice was in her nightclothes, sprawled along the couch. Her feet were blocked comically, _deliberately_, from venturing any closer to Gil by a pillow separating the two. Gil was asleep, his head resting on his hand, held up by his elbow on the armrest at the far end of the couch. He wasn't wearing his usual trenchcoat and hat, and Oz wondered just how soaked with blood they'd been. He realized Gil must've bathed and changed, since the raven _seaweed _– he smiled at the word choice his mind supplied him with _-_ tumbling over his eyes looked as soft and dry as ever. His shirt was pristine white, bunching up slightly at the waist at the beginning of his black pants.

He wondered just how dirty he was himself, considering once they'd gotten back he could barely keep his eyes open long enough to get inspected and bandaged, not to mention bathe. But that was a worry for later.

He slipped out from under the covers dexterously, landing on the balls of his feet on the slightly chilly floor. A flash of lightning followed by an intense roar of thunder made him pause, Gil's response one of a slight grunt and wrinkling of his features. Alice's breathing remained even.

He smiled fondly at his two friends, planning out his next move. Who would be his victim?

Well, that was easy.

There was really only one person who was fun to torment.

He padded over to his poor, helpless, sleeping servant (isn't that what makes it so fun?), his feet moving quicker with each step. He leaped, his heart thumping dangerously in his chest, landing in a straddle with his knees on either side of Gil's hips. Before Gil could shriek, he covered his mouth with his palm, snickering silently but uncontrollably as the other jumped and his expression turned to one of alarm. Laughter wracked through his body, and he shook, his forehead landing on the back of the hand that covered the other's mouth. Once under control, he lifted his face, grinning from ear to ear.

"Good evening, Gil."

* * *

Gil felt a jolt, a heavy weight suddenly taking presence on his lap. A shriek built up in his throat, but a hand covering his mouth stopped its journey outward.

"Good evening, Gil."

Oz. As always. He should be used to this. The boy was currently shaking in what he supposed was unsuppressed amusement at the terror his face must've shown. He sighed inwardly, slightly aggravated at the rude awakening. When the other lifted his head, that smug grin residing on his face, he flicked him in the forehead.

He sighed for real as the other frowned at his response.

It figures that Oz would be up and clearly _bored_ after breaking two ribs and almost drowning only hours ago.

Oz's expression softened and he looked away in faux disinterest of the boy. He could _really_ use a smoke.

"Was that really necessary?" He whispered, but his voice didn't hold any real conviction.

He smiled brightly, the lightning flickering across his face that was turned toward the window only strengthening its brilliance. "Of course, Gil."

He paused, twirling strands of Gil's hair between his fingers.

_Too close,_ Gil thought, slightly uncomfortable, even in his after-nap daze.

"What time is it?" Oz asked.

It's not like Gil was any more likely to know what time it was, but like a dutiful servant he glanced over at the clock along the other wall.

But more importantly...much more importantly...

His eyes fell on the clock on the boy's chest. He was shirtless, the bandages just barely brushing the wretched mark.

He gasped, swallowing hard, opening his mouth to voice his concern and disapproval of having this information kept from him. But he was speechless.

The hand on the seal had past the halfway mark. If it were a real clock, Oz would only have twenty-five minutes left to live.

His hands lifted shakily, grasping at the other's shoulders as his forehead rested on the center of the mark.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

* * *

Oz suddenly felt a chill, resting his hands awkwardly on his friends forearms in some semblance of comfort. "I," he swallowed, "I...didn't know what to say, Gil."

His chest felt like it was sinking inward from the sudden guilt that plagued him; hurting Gil was the last thing he ever wanted.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you." His hands slipped under the white fabric sleeves covering the other's wrist, and he stroked the soft skin he found there. He swallowed again, suddenly aware of every breath he took, as if one wrong move would somehow further offend the raven.

"No, Oz, I'm sorry...I'm sorry I can't stop it." A shiver wracked through his body, reverberating through Oz.

He didn't know how to deal with such a heavy atmosphere. He wanted out, to flee. The thought of slicing the seal off his chest just to appease his friend occurred to him in a brief moment of desperation. But he somehow knew that the seal wasn't the only bind he had to the Abyss.

"It's not your fault." No response. He couldn't deal with this gloominess.

"Hey, Gil," he said, his voice light, "I'm still here now, ne?"

He shifted, this movement suddenly awkward since he was sitting on Gil's _lap_. He needed to get up.

This movement caused Gil to freeze.

"Aa," he replied, after a moment. He let go of the blonde's shoulders and Oz lifted his body from his knees, inching backward until he was standing in front of the couch.

He smiled, his confidence returning to him as he stood above his gloomy servant. He made to place his hands on his hips, then winced at the sudden pain the movement caused.

"You should..." Gil trailed off, his eyes averted in embarrassment (to which Oz's smile turned less innocent), he coughed, "You should probably put on a shirt before Alice wakes up."

Oz's expression turned to something more bashful, lifting his right hand up and scratching at the back of his – he grimaced – _disgusting_ head. Poor Gil was subjected to _this_? Wow, Gil must really – _no,_ he thought, _that is _not_ the right word._

"Uh, Gil?" Now it was his turn to look away.

* * *

Gil blinked up at Oz, intrigued by his bashful state. "Yes, Oz?"

"Will you...uh, could you, you know, _help _me?" The blonde looked at him then, obviously hoping Gil had gotten the message although he clearly hadn't. "I can't exactly lift my left arm, but I could really use a..._bath._"

_Ah._ Gil's mind went blank. He wants help with..._bathing_? Didn't that require even _less_ clothing than what he was currently wearing?

Even though as a servant Gil was expected to help with such tasks, it wasn't normal for the two of them. He'd only seen Oz in a state of undress a handful of times before, but in nothing less than shorts. The routine had always been that Gil would fill the tub and leave the room. Oz was in charge of his own hygiene.

Anything more and he'd be reduced to a spluttering, flaming mess.

Like now.

"Wh-ah, hai, Oz," he stammered. He stood up, following the blonde to the washroom in Gil's bedroom (he couldn't exactly bathe in the same room as a _lady_). Before they could reach the door, however, Oz turned back briefly with a grin that held just enough smugness to make Gil nervous.

* * *

After almost forty five minutes of teasing – downright _torture_ as Gil would put it – Oz was fully dressed after a glance at the clock told the pair it was actually only about half past eight in the afternoon.

He opened the door to the bedroom and Oz skipped by, presumably back to awaken Alice.

Gil watched him as he left for a moment before heading to the parlor.

_I wonder if things would be different if Alice weren't around,_ he thought for a moment. But he doubted it.

Now he _really_ needed a smoke.

Opening the door quietly, he beelined through the parlor to the balcony, thankful for the overhang as it was still raining quite heavily.

He knew it wouldn't be long before...

"Up so soon, Raven?" Break perched himself backward on a chair he must've dragged outside, a lollipop resting on his lips.

Gil gave a noncommittal grunt, enjoying the drag of his cigarette.

"So," he said, licking along the edge of the candy, "what happened?"

"I've already told you what happened, Break."

"Yes, but," he paused, in his what Gil thought to be quite _irritating_ manner of dragging out questions he already knew the answer to, "you mean to tell me that _you_," he pointed the lollipop in Gil's direction, "let that brat almost _die_ while you yourself are standing here with no wounds to be found?"

Gil gritted his teeth around the cigarette in his mouth, averting his eyes. They both enjoyed their respective addictions for a moment.

"I was hurt," he said, finally, feeling foolish, but he knew of anyone Break might believe him. "Badly hurt. I thought...I mean I _knew_ I wasn't going to make it, but then -"

"You were miraculously healed. Is that it?" Break said, as casually as if discussing the weather.

"U-un."

"Do you remember anything of the time before you became a servant of the Vessalius household?"

Gil frowned. "No, all I remember is what I've been told. That I'm Vincent's brother. He won't tell me anything more about my past."

"Ah yes, Vincent-sama can be quite an infuriating individual," Break said, displeasure leaking into his tone.

"But I don't...I don't mind, really." Gil said, thinking fondly of those five years he spent with Oz and Ada.

"Hm? Then you don't _mind_ not knowing how you survived this last mission?" Break paused his assault on the candy poised between his fingers.

"Well, I'd of course like to know, but I'm worried that once I know that I won't be...well, _me._"

"You probably won't," he said, in a bout of uncharacteristic vulnerability, "if you're anything like me."

He smiled, one of those small, genuine smiles that only Raven and Sharon get to see.

Within seconds his mask was replaced, however.

"Now Raven," he paused, that awful smirk stretching along that cunning mouth, "How did you enjoy that brat's _lips_? How did they compare to -"

"Break!"

Break stopped, chuckling. Gil had one hand up as if to forcibly stop the white haired man from speaking, his cigarette lying forgotten on the damp stone of the balcony.

Gil could feel his face burning. Somehow the words held some bite despite the light teasing tone behind them.

"It's not like...it wasn't like that." He dropped his hand, and another thought occurred to him, "How did you...?"

"Know?" The other finished for him, smugly. "I didn't."

He popped the lollipop back in his mouth, obviously amused at the now fuming Gil next to him.

It was a wonder why he could never come to hate this man, Gil thought.

He didn't notice the lingering glance Break sent toward the space at the crack in the door the now red blonde previously occupied.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh, butts. Oz is such an oblivious tease.


	7. VII

**A/N:** I seriously really suck. I said last chapter that I would update soon and it's what, like a month later? Oh well. I'm sorry to anyone who was excited about this. I'm not abandoning it and I never plan to. In fact, I even have the next chapter written (and I think you'll like it)!

* * *

Two weeks had passed since the last incident. Gilbert could feel that his mental state was becoming unstable. How does one cope with invincibility?

The thought haunted him, lingering at the back of his skull, constantly leeching his attention. It didn't help that lately he didn't have any distractions, since Alice and Oz were still recuperating. And he couldn't shake the feeling that Oz was somehow... distant. Or at least more distant than usual.

Gil bit his lip, white teeth settling into pale pink flesh threateningly as he tried to recall the last time he'd even spent time with his master. Two weeks ago. Ever since then he'd noticed Oz spending every waking moment with that infuriating rabbit. Could he be imagining that it seemed they were closer than ever now, now that Oz for whatever reason was avoiding him?

He couldn't imagine another time when the two of them had been distant. When they were little, or rather little _together_, they were practically joined at the hip. It almost seemed like Oz was _afraid _of keeping away for too long. If they weren't interacting, they were at least in the same room. Gil felt his constant presence was somehow comforting to his master, and if that's how it was then he was more than happy to simply sit in silence.

But now he felt like a bother. It made sense that Oz would prefer someone closer to his age. After all, his mind and body were still developing.

Mind... Gil shook his head. He was sure Oz's mind was as developed as his own, if not even more so. He was wise beyond his years, especially now that those emerald eyes had dulled just a bit as a result of the Abyss. But he was naïve, inexperienced, and still emotionally childish.

Gil promised he'd be by his side forever, but if he wasn't needed...

It took two drops of blood to land on his porcelain hand for Gil to notice he'd torn his bottom lip with his teeth. He blinked in surprise, dreadful thoughts turning to curious ones. He waited a moment, then licked along the wound to feel the cut fully healed. Fascinated, he stuck his lip between his teeth again, this time intentionally applying pressure. His eyes widened in anticipation as he pressed down, the pain reaching a peak when the skin reached its limit and this time more droplets of crimson blood dripped down his chin. It wasn't the pain he was fascinated with, but rather the rate of healing.

Shaken by his morbid curiosity, he used the inside of his coat sleeve to collect the blood, then grabbed his hat and set out for a smoke.

* * *

Oz plopped himself down on the couch, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the first button on his shirt. He sighed, relaxing into the cushions, allowing his fatigued muscles to crumble and ache with rest. He closed his eyes, resting his head on the top of the cushion behind him. He felt the couch dip, and then barely a delay before he felt a light weight on his shoulder and arm.

He smiled. If this training was taking a toll on him, then it was definitely taking a toll on Alice. Her weight was reassuring and he fought the heaviness that creeped into the muscles of his eyes.

He started this training almost immediately after the fight. At first, Sharon and Break resisted his efforts, planning to lock him in his room until his injuries were healed. But, with some... persuasion, or rather _persistence_ (Oz's picklocking skills came in handy) at odd times of the day and night finally won Break over. Oz was sure though that if Break hadn't wanted to help him he would've tried harder to shake him off.

But the training was relentless. Break started out teaching him one-handed sword movements (he was glad he was right handed, although his bruised left side still slowed down his movements immensely) since as a noble he had basic fencing training. The goal was to start him out with a style of fighting he was comfortable with before moving on to gun training.

He was sore, more sore than he'd ever been in his life. Despite the rapid movements of his body and the lack of rest he was getting, his wounds were healing in less time than he'd anticipated. Or maybe the rest of his body was just as sore and the pain was now inconsequential.

On top of the training, Sharon insisted he spend more time with Alice. At first he was puzzled, didn't he spend most of his time with Alice anyway? But she'd explained that in order to strengthen their combined combat they needed to "resonate." He wasn't sure what the dreamy look she had when she said that implied, but he agreed and so did Alice. So they spent more time together much to Alice's delight. It reminded him of the days he used to play with Ada, and even more so as Alice's childish personality further revealed itself.

It was only dinnertime now, the afternoon sun still beaming deep reds and oranges over the porcelain dishware and silver cutlery. His eyelids drooped in resistance to the light and he could feel his consciousness leaving him as soft snores reverberated down his arm.

His face scrunched when he heard the turn of the doorknob to the room and he jumped, his eyes bursting open with new-found energy. He guiltily scratched the back of his head when Alice jumped as well, frowning, but as soon as Sharon and Break entered the room she jumped off the couch with a beaming smile on her face. Gil was right behind them, one hand on his hat before he slipped it off and hung it on a hook by the door. He stared at it thoughtfully for half a moment before coupling it with his trenchcoat. He turned, about to make his way to the table when he caught Oz's gaze.

Oz blinked, not realizing he'd been staring. His cheeks pinked lightly and he ignored them, settling on a wide grin before picking up his protesting muscles and hiding his pain well.

He'd noticed that lately things had been... tense with Gil. Gil didn't know about his training, which was vital. It went without saying that it would make Gil sick with worry, which he'd been enough of over the injuries alone. Plus he knew that his servant was feeling inadequate, as if his injuries in the last fight were Gil's fault. If he told him that he was training to protect himself, he couldn't bear to think of the painful look he'd receive.

Plus, spending time with Alice cut his time with Gil over half, since the two of them never got along. And not to mention the slight awkwardness left over from when he'd been eavesdropping on Gil and Break's conversation...

Oz sat at the table as Break and Gil worked on passing out food for the group. He smiled as Alice reached behind Gil's back and grabbed a piece of roast beef from under his arm as he leaned over to fill Oz's tea.

"Baka usagi! That isn't yours!" A fight ensued, as always.

Gil acted the same as ever, but ever since that conversation something felt... off. Oz shifted a bit in his chair as he used the fight as an excuse to observe his servant.

He'd never put much thought into Gil's love life. He was handsome, ridiculously so, and it was no surprise that girls flocked to him. So of course he'd had numerous girlfriends, right? Isn't that what Break meant when he mentioned comparing... he blinked, shaking his head to nip that thought in the bud. A flush creeped its way up his neck but he quickly suppressed it by focusing on his food that had somehow materialized on his plate while he spaced out.

But his stomach felt tight despite the deadly amount of physical training he'd done earlier. Did Gil... currently have a girlfriend? He contemplated it, but it wouldn't make sense. Or was Gil just good at sneaking out at opportune times to see her? After all, he was twenty-four and he'd had ten years to build up a relationship. Many nobles, as Gil now was, were married at this age.

Gil never showed much interest in girls when he was younger, but that might have been due to Oz's teasing and relentless questioning about various girls they knew.

Somehow it made him nauseous to think that Gil had an entirely different life outside of Oz. _What a selfish thought,_ Oz scowled inwardly at himself, _of course he has a life outside of me. He even has his own apartment._

He focused once again on his food. He must've been staring. But no one seemed to notice. Break and Gil were locked in a heated conversation about Pandora's plans to regain control over the entrances to the Abyss. Sharon and Alice were in their own world, Sharon having laid out an illustrated book for them both to swoon over.

He turned his gaze outside, noting the birds bathing in a birdbath in the garden, marking the start of spring. He suddenly wanted to be outside, feeling restless jitters work themselves up his overused legs. The day was at its most vibrant and he felt suffocated indoors, admiring its brilliance from afar.

He quickly scarfed down his meat, picked at his potatoes, then stood up, hoping not to draw too much attention.

"Excuse me," he said quietly, but no one paid him any mind. Just as he wanted. He needed a moment alone.

He slipped out into the hallway, re-buttoned his shirt and re-situated his tie so he'd be presentable, then made his way out the back door to the garden.

The air was fresh, slightly chilled as it drew goosebumps down his bare arms. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, and he was suddenly reminded of a simpler time during his childhood when he spent almost every day outside.

But now he was training to kill. It was hard to remember that sometimes in all his excitement to gain physical prowess, but ultimately, he was trying to murder chains and cast their masters to the Abyss. Not to mention to protect himself against the Baskervilles...

Is this what it felt like for Gil? Is this what he wanted to keep Oz away from?

_But he was alone. He didn't have anyone but Break and a brother he doesn't even remember._

Or did he? He really knew nothing about Gil's time with the Nightrays. He'd just assumed from bits of conversation that he was a loner, shy, introverted, just as always. The lack of knowledge was more than unsettling.

He made his way through the winding trail of the gardens, passing through a courtyard and then an archway of shrubbery. Eventually he made it to a koi pond and he smiled, squatting down to watch. He glanced out over the pond and noticed he wasn't the only one watching the koi.

He smiled, standing up carefully so as not to scare the creature and tiptoed around to the other side.

"Hello there," he said, settling himself beside the petite black cat, reaching a hand out to reassure it. It retracted its paw from its positioning over the water, evidently trying to catch itself dinner, and sniffed his finger. Immediately it rubbed its cheek against his hand and he smiled, reaching both hands down to pick it up. It was young and inquisitive, and when he picked it up it sniffed his nose and its whiskers tickled his cheeks and he laughed.

"Do you have a name?" He asked, lifting its tail and determining its sex to be male.

He smiled wickedly. "I shall call you Raven."

The cat licked his hand in response. He didn't know if the Rainsworth family would take kindly to a cat in their home, but why would that stop him? He opened his vest, placing the cat in his pocket, his raven paws hanging over the edge. He seemed perfectly content in his new perch.

It sent a warm feeling through his otherwise uneasy chest and he was instantly attached to this new source of comfort.

"Come on, I'll take you in and find you something to eat... Raven." He smiled again at the irony of the name.

* * *

"Eek!"

As expected, upon meeting up with Gil in the hallway he immediately froze up, backed up several steps and shrieked.

Just like old times.

"Is that – that a -"

"A cat? Why yes, it is, Gi-ru~." He grinned, taking a step forward, only for Gil to take a step backward. "Do you want to pet him?"

"Wha – no!" He took another step backward.

"O-Oz." Gil said, trying to sound threatening.

Oz pouted, "Well that's too bad. Let's go, Raven."

Gil blinked, startled. Oz _never_ called him Raven. Which meant -

"You named him Raven?" He stared, exasperated.

"Nn." Oz confirmed, that grin reaching almost from ear to ear. Then he continued walking, in search of supplies for his new pet.

"Oz!" He paused, turning back. When he got no reply, he prompted, "Yeah? Gil?"

"I-It's nothing." Oz stared a moment, but his mind was elsewhere and thus he set off again on his earlier course.

* * *

Gil watched Oz's back until he rounded the corner of the hallway, subconsciously holding his breath and only releasing it when he was out of sight.

"I miss you," was what he wanted to say. But of course he'd never say that to Oz.

* * *

Oz slept peacefully those following nights with Raven curled up in his neck while he slept. Alice and Sharon had been ecstatic about a new pet and he now donned a "masculine" blue bow around his neck, complete with a little bell to let them know where he was.

Unfortunately, this made Gil more distant than ever. He now favored the balcony or the hallway whenever Oz and Raven were together in a room, which was more often than not.

Oz woke up early one morning, dressing in preparation for training. He could already feel the difference in his muscles. His biceps especially had become lightly toned and he swore he could see the beginnings of abs beneath his shirt. His leg movements were much more agile and his lungs didn't burn as quickly as they used to. Today he would finally pick up a gun.

"Ohaiyo, Break-san!" Oz called as he reached the training room, but instead he found Alice curled up, sleeping against the doorframe. He reached down and ruffled her hair and she groaned a bit in her sleep.

Alice didn't need to be at these training sessions, since they were mostly for Oz. But she decided on her own that she couldn't be beaten by him. Oz had sighed and relented, allowing her to train with him as if it were a competition.

After about ten minutes of waiting, just when Oz was starting to become sleepy again, he suddenly heard in his ear, "Oz," and shrieked, backing away from Break and Emily. He was suddenly not as excited about training today.

"Oh, look at that, Emily, it seems all our training has been for null if one could simply sneak up behind our little brat."

"Eh? Who are you calling a brat?!" Alice jumped up and stood between Oz and Break defensively, her hands on her hips and a pout on her lips. "He's not a brat, he's my manservant!"

"Well then I regret to inform you that your manservant is a brat. Right, Emily?"

"Right!"

"Could we get started?" Oz said, smiling uncomfortably and feeling rather impatient.

"Eager, are we?" Break turned around and seemed to be fumbling with something. When he turned around, he was holding a pistol and a holster.

He spent the next ten minutes explaining the basics of shooting the gun, most of which Oz already knew, but the majority of the day consisted of Oz working on his aim. The sense of accomplishment he felt was spectacular, since by now he was hitting almost every target. His issue lied with the recoil and he groaned, frustrated, when he was once again knocked back and unable to aim straight.

Even the occasional "You can do it, Oz!"'s Alice was shouting were losing their strength. It seemed hopeless. He now had a much bigger appreciation for Gil's shooting accuracy.

"Let's quit for today." Break offered, or rather ordered, since he was already packing up.

"Let me keep trying. I almost got it." He aimed toward a post, but his hand was shaking from over exertion.

He sighed, giving up, thanking Break despite the condescending look he was now receiving. He flipped the safety mechanism on, then handed it to the older man.

He turned to leave, Alice in tow, "Hey Oz," Break said, "don't burn yourself out, brat. You'll have plenty of help in combat."

Oz knew what he was referring to. But this training was so he could protect himself and thus the people around him would stop getting hurt for his sake.

He smiled his usual grin, turning around, "I-"

Break was gone. _How does he do that?_

* * *

**A/N:** I love kitties._  
_


	8. VIII

**Chapter 8: Love and Ache**

Gil's heart hung heavily in his chest as he went to retrieve Oz. The past month put him in a state of false hope, as a month without missions meant a month of Oz's seal not progressing. Unfortunately, this state was short-lived. He hesitated briefly outside the Rainsworth library, sure to find his master here with Alice. This had become their hang out. He took a breath, then opened the door.

"Check." He heard Oz's smug voice from behind a shelf of books. Rounding the shelf he saw the two of them immersed in a game of chess.

Alice, facing the bookshelf, saw him first, "What do you want, seaweed-head?"

She folded her arms across her chest. Raven was curled up in a ball on her lap.

Oz turned around, seeming genuinely pleased to see him, "Gil," he offered with a smile that penetrated deep.

Gil ignored the sharp flare in his chest from the sight and avoided those eyes.

"We have... another mission." He said, reluctantly.

Oz's face lit up, way more than it should have in his current situation. Didn't his master know that the more he fought the closer he was to the deepest levels of the Abyss? Gil frowned, and it wasn't lost on Oz.

"When?"

Gil exhaled, still avoiding those eyes. "Immediately."

"Aa," that blonde head turned toward the stupid rabbit, "Alice?"

"Nn! We don't need the seaweed-head, we can do this ourselves!"

Gil's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. He'd already argued with Oz about this enough. All he could do was fight to protect his master and keep any use of the B-Rabbit's powers to a minimum.

As the two of them rose from their seats (deciding to leave the chess game and hope Break doesn't mess with it by the time they get back) Gil noticed something. He reached out without thinking, his hand wrapping around Oz's upper arm in wonder.

"Uh?" Oz said, confused.

"Have you -" _been working out?_ But before Gil could finish that question he realized he had just touched his master inappropriately, and indirectly admitted to noticing minor changes in his physique such as the size of his biceps. His face burned and he yanked his hand away.

Oz looked torn between amusement and... was that nervousness or guilt?

"Like what you see, Gil?"

"W-what?! No!" But by that time Oz and Alice were already leaving. Alice was grumbling about the seaweed-head touching her manservant, Raven tucked under her arms. The blonde reached back, grabbing onto Gil's sleeve and dragged him along, an amused smug grin on his face.

Oz always did like to humiliate him.

* * *

The carriage ride there took long enough that by the time they reached the city the only light was provided by the moon and streetlights. The streetlights casted an eerie yellow-orange glow over the desolate, dirty streets. They were in the lower west side of the city, an area known for its lack of wealth. By day the streets were filled with vendors, but now the stands lay empty and the alleyways were especially dark.

Oz wasn't prepared for the first attack, but Gil was. The moment they stepped out of the carriage, Gil yanked his master out of the way of the first vector. It was clear they were facing the same chain as before. Whether or not the water chain was around was undetermined. Oz yelped, almost losing his footing, but quickly returned to his senses and reached down to pull his gun out of his holster.

And was it just Gil's imagination or did it seem as if Oz was... a little too comfortable holding that gun?

But he didn't have time to question it. At least some of the pressure was off him, as long as Oz didn't do anything too rash. The three of them stood defensively. The chain let out a cackle, its tongue trailing along the ground and leaving a slimey smoking trail in its path. Gil sniffed the air, noting the familiar scent. _Acid?_ It seemed like the chain was gaining more powers. _Where is the master?_

"Gil, release Alice's power!"

"No!" He didn't need to, not now. He could finish this. Oz's seal would remain unmoved.

He scoped the surroundings, but it was much too dark to tell if someone was hiding. There were plenty of dark corners to hide in. The chain's tongue lashed out toward Oz, who was in the middle, but Gil shot and expertly hit it between the eyes. But that clearly wasn't enough to stop it.

"Oz, dodge!" He yelled, as another vector appeared under his feet. Gil jumped, barrel-rolling to the left as a vector appeared under his own feet. And another. And another. He was so distracted by the vectors that he didn't notice the next attack was aimed at himself.

He let out a cry as a long, sword-like fingernail lodged itself deep in his shoulder.

Oz screamed.

"No, don't!" Gil struggled against the fingernail, attempting to dislodge it. Blood was gushing as the wound deepened and widened, making a mess of the flesh around his collarbone. If he could just _move_ and if the damn chain could at least yank its nail out of him he would heal. He'd be fine. But Oz didn't know that.

Oz trembled in anger. Seeing Gil in such a wounded state was more than he could bear. He'd never seen Gil act so careless as to not even _see_ an attack focused on himself. Gil was indestructible, or so he'd liked to believe. He was strong, much stronger than himself, and wasn't he supposed to protect _him?_ He couldn't die here. The scent of blood was thick in the air and he suppressed a gag. He panicked. Gil's flesh was being torn outward by the rough, jagged fingernail and the look of anguish on his servant's face was unnerving. It was time to use his new skills.

He didn't have time to gather courage. This moment meant everything. He ran in an arc around the chain, motioning for Alice to do the same on the other side. He cocked his gun, aiming for the tip of the chain protruding from the chain's back. His arm wasn't entirely steady though, and he panicked and closed his eyes as he shot the first shot. He missed. But that caused the chain to yank its nail out of Gil, who fell forward with a surprised, pained shout.

His heart thundered in his chest as the chain loomed toward him, acid dripping and showering the areas around it. It sounded like rain, a smoking, boiling rain that smelled like burning flesh.

A rock hit it from behind, presumably thrown by Alice as a distraction, but it was no use.

He hesitated, which was the wrong thing to do. It was getting closer, too close now. He cocked the gun, screaming as a drop of acid burned through his shirt and onto his chest, just above his heart. He saw a vector appearing beneath him at the same moment he shot and he didn't close his eyes until he saw the bullet fire.

He shrieked as his body was suddenly propelled forward uncontrollably. He heard a shout and he braced himself for impact, but he landed on something soft. Gil.

Still panicked, he pushed off of his servant, standing up, ready to defend them both, but the chain was already shrinking into the earth.

He'd done it.

He'd protected the three of them.

His knees gave out and he knelt on the ground with his back to Gil. Alice was standing to the side, clearly amazed and in shock, just as he was.

And he laughed. It started as a chuckle, but as the intense fear melted away he couldn't help the laughter that bubbled outward. It was just too much. And he'd won.

Alice walked over to him and placed her palm on his forehead.

"Wh-what is it, Alice?" He said, inbetween sobs of laughter.

"Are you ill? What are you laughing for?"

His laughter began to slow. In its wake was shock and disbelief.

He turned around, assessing Gil's injury like he should've the moment the chain disappeared. But he'd lost himself.

The blood was still there, but the injury... was fine. He crawled over to his servant, expecting to see a torn up gash of flesh, but there was nothing there. Did he imagine it? No, he'd definitely seen that chain stick a fingernail the size of a sword through his chest. He reached forward, confused, and perhaps insane, but Gil flinched away from him and turned his head away.

Oz looked up at Gil's face, expecting to see relief, but instead there were tears in those golden eyes. Tears... why? He swallowed. "Gil?"

Gil's only answer was turning his gaze on him. Oz's stomach dropped, all the blood from his head rushed downward, filling his chest with a burning anxiety that left chills down his neck. He'd never seen Gil look like that. He was livid. The anger was palpable, and his gaze was accusatory. Gil was angry. Angry with _him._ He'd done something unforgivable, something that hurt Gil deeply and _personally_.

The blood rushed back into his head and face, his face most likely a shade of deep red bordering purple from shame. It pulsated hotly underneath his skin. What did he... do to deserve such hostility from the one person that always accepted him?

He backed away, falling onto his rear, his eyes wide with confusion. He felt a heat behind his eyes, but he fought it, swallowing audibly.

He'd won, and everyone was okay, he was alive, so why...?

He couldn't speak and he didn't want to. The shame he felt was penetrating and he was sure if he opened his mouth he'd only squeak or sob.

* * *

The tension didn't let up in the carriage. Gil pointedly stared out the window, his hat low over his face to cover his expression. Oz sat on the opposite side at the opposite window, his knees pulled up to his chest. Alice, completely oblivious, kept trying to make conversation with Oz, who just nodded and curled his lips into an acceptable smile at the right moments to keep her talking.

When the carriage reached the mansion Oz was the last one to step out, but he didn't bother accepting Gil's hand when he did so. Gil stood there out of duty, his eyes averted to the ground and his jaw clenched. Seeing that Oz didn't need his help, his hand curled into a fist that he brought back close to his body. He walked ahead.

He'd never seen his servant like this and it was so unnerving he could feel every bone and muscle in his body tremble with the force of his anxiety. He swallowed repeatedly, hoping to stave off the nausea that threatened him. What did he do to make Gil hate him so much?

Hate.

Gil... hated him. And he didn't know why.

He choked. It was unfair! He stopped in the middle of the driveway, the sound of his feet hitting the pebbles ceasing. Normally Gil would wait for him, prompt him, act the concerned servant he always was. But this time he kept walking.

"G-Gil," he said, but it was so quiet he would be surprised if Gil had even heard him. His knees were practically knocking together with the force of his trembling.

"Gil!" He yelled, shocking himself with the tone. But he was frustrated and angry at the way the other was acting. That burning sensation behind his eyes intensified, but now it was out of anger rather than shame.

Gil finally stopped, his hands in fists by his sides, but he didn't turn around.

"What the hell did I do?!"

Now he turned around and Oz wished he hadn't. He'd never forget the hatred presented on that face at that moment.

"Oz, are you serious?! What did you _do?_ You nearly _died_!" He stopped, trembling with fury and grinding his teeth together.

"How could you... how could you _do_ that to me?"

"I protected you, Gil! What are you saying? I didn't die, I'm _alive_, so why are you so _angry?_ You were hurt and I needed to protect -"

"No. You didn't."

"Gil, you're being _ridiculous_." That seemed to make it worse, though. Gil let out an exasperated groan of rage and turned his back on Oz. "If you'd just _listen_ to me. In fact, you were there, you should know you were hurt and -"

"Don't take me so lightly, Oz." He said, in a quiet, monotone voice. He then continued walking and Oz was so hurt and confused and enraged he didn't even fight it.

Five minutes later, after much pacing about the driveway he headed inside. He headed for the tea room, unsurprised to see Break sitting at the table. Oz sat down, groaning in frustration, tapping his foot and pulling at his hair.

"I just don't _understand_ him, Break! Why is he always so damn hard to read?! I protect him and he's _angry_ with me. I _get_ that I could've been seriously hurt, but I _wasn't_." He looked to Break, as if he had all the answers.

And he did, that bastard.

"Hm," was all he said after a moment, which in Oz's current state was simply _infuriating_.

"_What?_" He shivered, his anger giving him chills and causing that burning behind his eyes to increase. His teeth began to chatter out of anxiety.

"It's simple really, Oz." Break only referred to him as Oz when he was truly being serious, which was rare. This somehow caught his attention. He knew this was important.

"He's in love with you."


	9. IX

**Chapter 9: Confusion**

"It's simple really, Oz." Break only referred to him as Oz when he was truly being serious, which was rare. This somehow caught his attention. He knew this was important.

"He's in love with you."

* * *

Oz felt the statement before it truly registered. Anger faded to shock, his heart beat out of his chest, and a lump formed in his throat. He felt chills race up his spine to pool in his neck, blood rushing in waves in his ears. He stood up, the backs of his knees pushing the chair to skid behind him.

"He... what?" He croaked, blinking wide green eyes at the silver-haired man. He simply stared back.

He felt like he'd had an overdose of tea; restless jitters began at his core and leaked outward. He could feel the blood rush from his chest to his face, so quickly he suddenly felt dizzy. Not to mention the churning in his stomach.

"If this is a joke, Break, it's not funny."

"I assure you I am not joking, Oz."

"But that doesn't even make _sense!"_

"Enlighten me." Break was clearly impatient now, his tone flat.

"Are we... even talking about the same thing?"

Break sighed. This brat was hopeless.

"You mean to say he... _loves_ me, right? Not that he's _in love _with me." His features turned to embarrassment, as if he'd convinced himself that he'd misheard.

"I chose my words wisely."

"That's... that's _rubbish._ There's no way that's _true._" But as he fumbled the words in his mouth, repeating them in his head, he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that it _could _be true.

"So Gil is... gay?"

"I wouldn't say _gay,_ Oz, but rather... selective." _More like he has no interest in anyone other than you,_ Break thought bitterly.

There was no fight left in Oz. He settled himself back down in the chair with a hand over his face to cover his deep red cheeks. After the near-death experience, then the fight with Gil, and now _this_ he felt immensely emotionally drained. He knew he'd have to go talk to his servant, who was probably fuming or sulking or perhaps both, but now he didn't know what to say.

To his surprise, he wasn't disgusted with this new idea. Of course, he himself was _straight_ since he liked girls, right? And it's not like Gil confessed to him or anything.

The idea of Gil confessing to him deepened his flush exponentially.

Gil was his best friend. That was all.

Reassuring himself had helped calm down his nerves a bit. He bid Break goodnight, standing as if in a daze, and headed upstairs to his room.

On his way there, however, he passed Gil's room. When he did, he stopped. He felt an unfamiliar jolt pass through his rib cage. He took another step toward his own room, but paused again. He was being childish.

Or... was it Gil who was being childish? Oz didn't feel like he did anything _wrong_, especially something to warrant such harsh treatment.

Cradling that thought, he opened the door to his room and made sure to slam it shut just loud enough that maybe his damn servant would hear it.

He collapsed on his bed, not bothering to remove even his boots or to shut the curtains. Face down, arms curled around his pillow, he passed out.

* * *

Oz woke up hours later, gasping for breath. There was something... nudging his cheek and he brushed it away to sit up, his lungs burning and his diaphragm aching with the intensity of his shuttering breaths.

_Another nightmare, huh? It figures._

He groaned. He'd woken up feeling groggy rather than fully rested. He couldn't even remember the dream he had, just the fear associated with it. He grasped at a fragment, but it eluded him and he let it go. He heard a peep and his expression softened. Clearly Raven was feeling lonely this morning.

He patted his head, scratching him about the ears distractedly. Turning his heavy head to the right, he noticed the sun had already risen. So what time was it, six, seven? Normally Gil would wake him up if he were sleeping past seven...

Ugh. He would _not_ worry about Gil right now.

He decided to get up, wrinkling his nose at the state of his clothes and undressed for a quick wash down before breakfast.

Once he'd redressed, he begrudgingly made his way to breakfast.

As expected, he was the last to show up. Even Gil was present, although he was leaning against the doorway to the balcony with a cigarette. The cool breeze filtering through the open door was somehow relieving.

"Ohaiyo," he said to no one in particular, hoping he sounded just as cheerful as usual. Alice patted the seat next to her excitedly and he sat down, taking a scone for appearances sake.

"Up late today, eh, brat?"

He reached a hand up to scratch at the back of his head in a sheepish way, extending a grin across his face.

"Heh, just felt like sleeping in."

"Are you sure? It seems the bolts I had placed in my door to keep you from pestering me about _training_ were deemed unnecessary this morning. Emily and I were quite pleased." Emily gave an affirmative nod and obligatory "Mhm!".

Oz froze at the word "training," cursing Break for mentioning it. It caught Gil's attention from across the room and he shot a look to Oz before quickly glancing away.

They hadn't talked after all, and Gil still hadn't known about the training he did, even if he had his suspicions. Break had just confirmed them.

"Yes, just uh... needed a break!" He nibbled on his scone for something to do in the minutes that followed. The tension was reaching an unbearable peak.

"Are you going to eat that?"

Oz turned to Alice, shaking himself to clarity, "Wha...? Oh, no, go ahead."

She beamed and took the last hunk of meat, chomping on it, oblivious to her surroundings. Even Sharon, stationed on her other side, was quiet today.

Oz grabbed his teacup without thinking, bringing it up to his lips. "Itai!" He hissed, replacing it, quickly pulling the scalding material of his shirt away from his chest to keep his skin from burning anymore than it already had.

"Oh dear, Oz, it seems you may have been served a faulty teacup. My apologies," Break said, in a totally unapologetic manner.

"No, it's – I'm fine." He held his hands up as Sharon hopped out of her seat with a napkin to clean him up. She had an overly sweet smile on her face, one hand on her fan.

"It seems Xerxes-nii served you tea in a cracked cup. It is thus my duty to -"

"Sharon-chan, thank you, but that won't be necessary. Come on, Oz." Oz blinked up at Gil and was too stunned to refuse.

"Arigatou, Sharon-chan." He offered with a smile on his way past her, following Gil into the hallway.

He followed a few steps behind until they reached Oz's bedroom. Neither spoke, even as Gil opened his wardrobe to find him a new vest and shirt. Oz crossed the room to sit on the windowsill, looking out to rolling green hills. He rested his elbow on his knee, resting his chin in his palm. There were hills surrounding the Vessalius mansion as well, and he recalled one particular pleasant memory of himself, Ada, and Gil rolling down those hills until their clothes were as green as the garden. He smiled.

"Oz?"

His smile faded as he unfolded himself so Gil could change his shirt. He swallowed, avoiding his servant's eye as he faced him, Gil on one knee before him.

"Are you still angry with me?" This time Gil looked away so he turned his gaze on him.

"I wasn't... angry with you. Just a bit... peeved."

"_Peeved,_ Gil?" Oz chuckled, exasperated at his choice of words, "You were _furious_. I've never seen you like that." His chuckle faded, along with his smile when he recalled Gil's rage the day before.

Gil's expression was unreadable but his eyes were distant as he worked the buttons of Oz's shirt open.

Oz stared thoughtfully in the long moment of silence, studying the delicate features of his servant's face curiously as he worked. He was uncharacteristically closed off.

As Gil reached the last button of his shirt, the blonde felt tension rise in his frame. He still hadn't responded and the silence was becoming... awkward to say the least. Not to mention he was worried that somehow the two of them wouldn't recover from this...

Just as he was about to crack and open his mouth to say something, Gil sighed, moving his hands from his shirt to rest on either side of his knees on the window-seat. He looked down, his eyes shuttered, those long pitch black eyelashes skimming his cheeks and his nose crinkling just a little...

And then those golden eyes with just a tinge of green met his determinedly.

"I'm sorry, Oz."

Oz blinked, his gaze flickering away for a moment, "For what?"

"I shouldn't have gotten angry with you over something that was my fault. I just didn't expect you to put yourself in danger for me... I promised to protect you but..."

The last part practically trailed off in a whisper, the words dripping heavily with shame. At some point Gil had shifted his gaze to the side, conflicted.

Feeling the need to urge him on, Oz reached out his left hand to cradle Gil's jaw, his lips curling slightly upward encouragingly when those expressive eyes met his in surprise. He ran his thumb along the curve of his cheek in little circles. The short few-second moment felt much longer and Oz ignored how his heartbeat quickened slightly.

Gil just looked so... so much like the Gil he grew up with in this moment.

"But?"

Gil looked a little lost at the prompt and Oz found that he secretly (almost) enjoyed it. He continued to run his thumb along that porcelain cheek, exploring. It was like the pad of his finger was a magnet, pulling the blood to the surface wherever it touched.

"But..." He could tell Gil was fighting not to move away as he swallowed and looked to the side. He opened his mouth hesitantly and the next words were so quiet that even in their close proximity he had to fight to hear them: "I'm worried that you don't trust me to protect you."

The words took a moment to register, but when they did, Oz let out a sigh of his own, his hand stilling briefly.

"Gil, I can't believe you. That didn't even... That's what you've been worried about?" he asked, incredulously.

Without thinking, in his exasperation, he brushed some hair out of Gil's eyes with his other hand. Gil nodded, obviously confused but now flushed to the brim.

"I just didn't want you to _die. _I wasn't thinking about anything else," he shook his head, laughing a little, "It's not like I was standing there thinking about how useless you are when you were showering the landscape with blood-"

He felt Gil still suddenly. His smile faded in confusion as his eyes drifted back to his servant's. Then he realized that in his mirth he absentmindedly lost control over his thumb, the tip caressing the corner of Gil's mouth. Then he realized his other hand was practically tangled in his hair.

He stilled too.

_He's in love with you._

Oz's breath caught in his throat and he felt his face flush with heat. He stood up quickly to mask his slip, hoping Gil was just as much or even more so embarrassed than him and didn't notice.

It didn't help that his shirt was hanging open...

He quickly turned away, his back to Gil, and pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. He grabbed the fresh one off the bed and slipped it over his shoulders.

He tensed slightly when he felt hands rest on his shoulders, halfway through buttoning his shirt.

"Oz?"

"Hm?"

"That's not-," he paused, "That isn't entirely what I meant."

All the tension from earlier left Oz in one breath and he jumped up on the bed beside them, sitting on the edge with his arms crossed.

"The training, then?"

He took Gil's silence as an affirmative.

"It's not that I was keeping it from you-" he stopped at the look he got, "Okay, I _was_ keeping it from you, but Gil, you worry too much and this is exactly why I _didn't_ want you to know."

Gil looked thoughtfully toward the floor at his feet, but didn't respond.

"But I didn't expect you to think that me getting stronger would somehow deem you _useless_," he snorted, "You're hopeless, Gil."

Gil frowned, looking like he wanted to offer a statement in his defense, but Oz continued before he had the chance.

"The training is just so I can help you protect me. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Gold eyes met his in surprise as if the idea had only just occurred to him. "A-aa."

Oz smiled at him fondly.

"You haven't changed a bit, Gil."

Gil's responding smile didn't quite reach his eyes, but Oz at this point was too busy redressing himself to notice.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope no one's bored of the build up yet. But I can't see them just... falling in love. It's more complicated than that. I also hope no one is cringing at the lack of plot as of lately. It's actually ridiculously hard to write a fic according to a manga that's not finished yet and is full of horrible twists. So clearly this is AU. The manga is so upsetting right now. X( Well I foresee some real romance in the near future...


	10. X

Two weeks later

* * *

"Konbanwa," Oz greeted quietly, and uncharacteristically awkwardly, as he walked into the study that evening. He scratched the back of his head, a grimace of sorts plastered along his lips. He was nervous, Gil could tell, and Oz seemingly tried to fit into the shadows of the room as he approached the couch where Alice was lying curled up with a book.

Oz wasn't the type to fidget.

Gil and Break were sitting at a table together at the opposite side of the room, both humoring him by pretending his presence went unnoticed. But Gil watched him from under his eyelashes as he waited for Break to make the next move on the chessboard.

His heart began to beat loudly and he hoped that he was the only one who could hear its relentless pounding.

But he didn't... no, he didn't care. Regardless of whether something happened between Oz and Alice – and it was only natural, with the amount of time they spent together – it wasn't his business.

Oh, that and Oz likes _girls_. He wouldn't delude himself into thinking he'd been the first one to receive gentle caresses, smiles that turned his stomach with their intensity, to have fingers running through his hair...but of course, he was the first one to receive such treatment as _just a friend._

Others have received that and _so much more_.

But somehow the idea of Oz and... Alice especially was enough to make his stomach turn threateningly. Whether it was because she was his master's _sun_ or the most likely to be his first relationship, he wasn't sure. He suddenly worried he was going to be sick all over the table.

But he didn't _care_, right? It was just a trained physical response. Maybe he was just being overprotective, an... older brother of sorts. Mentally, he grimaced at the term "brother."

"Alice, will you come with me?"

He watched, holding his breath, as Alice nodded, looking confused, and held out her hand for the blonde to take. He entwined their fingers, offering her a small smile before leading her out of the study. Did he imagine it or... did Oz glance over at him just before closing the door?

There was a lump in his throat and his dinner gurgled unpleasantly in his stomach. A cigarette, yes, that was what he needed.

"Gilbert."

Break was looking at him expectantly.

"It's been your turn for a while," he said, dryly, in that all-knowing drawl.

Gil grunted, his mind far away from the realm of chess.

He jumped when he felt Break take his hand. He made little circles along his knuckles in what would have been a comforting way, but it was just so reminiscent of...

Gil, in what he hoped was a convincingly natural way, used both hands to hold Break's still so he wouldn't have to feel that soft friction. He stared outside, marveling at the dim orange glow just beyond the horizon, his face blank.

Break wouldn't call him out on this moment of vulnerability. He never would. And for that Gil was grateful.

He instead moved his palm forward, and Gil allowed it to come to a rest on his cheek. His hands rested on the back of Break's, allowing himself this small comfort.

What was Gil to Break anyway...? He had to wonder. These hands and this touch were familiar to him, too familiar. Break even took his...second kiss, and a few after that. It wasn't love, nor was it just lust. A mutual attraction that ran soul deep, he assumed. They were kindred spirits, bound to intimately interact eventually. A mutual wish for the other's happiness.

At least, that is how Gil imagined their relationship to be.

"You know, Raven, you do have your own apartment," he said blandly, "Isn't that where you went to..._take a break_ from the Nightrays?"

The hint wasn't lost on Gil.

"I... can't do that."

"Why?" He paused suspensefully before teasing in that infuriating drawl, "Could it be that you're afraid that if you leave once you may never come back?"

Gil didn't answer but he was sure Break could hear his breathing speed up. He was growing irrationally irritated at the other.

"What are you getting at?" His voice shook. Break was _wrong_. There's no way he'd never come back. His home was within one person, not a location.

"Be selfish for once, Raven. After all this time, there must be a reason you kept that apartment," he said softly. He moved his hand up Gil's face to brush some hair out of his eyes. Gil wasn't sure why he didn't flinch away.

"I got rid of it."

"What?"

"I got rid of the apartment."

Break looked surprised at first, but then his expression hardened in displeasure.

"You put too much faith in that boy."

"I never said I did it for him," Gil immediately snapped and his shoulders tensed, his hands shaking on Break's, whose palm was resting along his temple comfortingly. He knew he was being childish, but he was trembling with suppressed emotion, defenseless and exposed to the other man. He cursed his inability to sufficiently mask his emotions. He'd always been told he wears his heart on his sleeve.

Break let out an incredulous half-sigh, half-laugh. He clearly didn't buy it, but he didn't press the issue.

"And you say I'm the crazy one," he muttered, his tone drenched in amusement.

Gil glared, determined to defend himself, "I don't expect anything from him."

The other's smirk turned grim. "I know. But you should," he said quietly.

Gil studied his face, searching for the meaning behind the conversation. It was almost like something had... changed. But what? Break had never tried to separate him from Oz before. And he wouldn't unless he was... protecting him. Gil's stomach frosted over as he grew increasingly disconcerted. Was there something he didn't know? Were Oz and Alice _actually_... Or did Oz not...

He swallowed the bile threatening to rise in his throat at the last words: _need him anymore?_

He cleared his throat, the sound loud in the quiet room, "Break -"

The door reopened and Gil almost squeaked, scrambling to look natural. To anyone else it would be apparent that Break was _holding his face_. He pushed the other's hand away, his face burning hotly. It was just Oz this time, who was now blinking over at the two of them.

To his surprise, Break reached out again, brushing at some spot on his cheek and Gil blanched, stepping on Break's foot under the table in warning -

"Ash, Raven? I recall you telling me you were going to _quit."_

The smirk on Break's face would have made him angry in any other situation. The fact that he was at all trying to cover up the situation was a rare moment of consideration in his life.

"A-aa," he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

Oz seemed to buy it, since he advanced closer to the table, "Gil quit smoking? It's hopeless, I'm telling you."

Gil frowned, new resolve to quit once and for all building up. He grew wary of the situation. The two of them grinning at him like that never made for a good time.

"You know this coat _reeks_, right?" Oz lifted his elbow to his nose, making a face and holding his arm out to the side as if disgusted.

"Wh-_what?!_ How did you even get my coat, Oz?" Gil said indignantly.

"Heh, it's _your_ fault for leaving it in the foyer." Oz sat down and Gil ignored how his trenchcoat tumbled around his form as he did so, "Now, who's winning?"

"Yes, now that we've re-established Raven's uselessness I believe we can get back to our game," Break's smirk turned deadly, "Loser writes the report for our last mission."

"F-fine." Gil supposed he should be more reluctant to do more of Break's work for him, but watching the man struggle with what remaining eyesight he had was becoming worrisome. He'd just ignore that comment about his uselessness...

He concentrated on the game, the three of them sitting in relative silence only broken at moments for a comment or two from Oz.

A while later, as Gil was contemplating his next turn, Break spoke up, "Ah, brat," Gil's eye twitched, "Oscar-san wanted me to remind you of the date of next Saturday. He requests your presence at a birthday party... for you."

There was some hidden amusement in his tone, a hint for Oz to _go home_ and Gil narrowed his eyes at him in silent warning.

"And Gilbert-kun, he wanted me to remind you that Ada-san is _off-limits,_" he said, obvious amusement now leaking from his voice.

Gil sputtered. "_What?!"_

Oz rounded on him and he shrunk back in his chair in alarm. "Gil, _Ada?!_ Who said you could date my _sister?_"

"N-no!" He cursed the red state of his face and took a breath in exasperation, "I'm not interested in Ada."

But Oz and Break were laughing and he frowned at the blonde for teasing him. Sometimes Oz made him feel like such a kid_._

Break's grin turned deadly.

"Oh? Then what about Elizabeth?"

He shrunk into his chair.

"No."

"Charlotte?"

"No."

"Olivia?"

"Stop it, Break."

"Hm, what about _Dalia_?"

Gil flushed, "No!"

That definitely caught Oz's attention.

"Who is Dalia?"

"Nobody." Gil wished he could just blend in to his seat at this point. "I'm not seeing _anybody_. Will you _stop_ this, Break?"

The silver-haired man's grin was wide and wicked; he was clearly enjoying his torment.

"Did you know our Raven here has had thirty marriage proposals?"

"_Thirty?!"_

"Mm."

"Gil, you rejected _all of them_?"

"Well, clearly I'm not _married_, idiot. So... yes."

"Has he ever had a girlfriend?" The blonde asked Break.

Gil smacked a palm over his practically purple face. _I'm right here_, he wanted to say, indignant and deeply irritated by his clown companion. He was so embarrassed he didn't hear the next thing Break said, but Oz then addressed him.

"But Gil! You're so..." Oz went silent. Gil forgot his mortification for a moment, looking up at Oz in curiosity. If he didn't know better, he'd almost say Oz was embarrassed.

"I'm just surprised is all." Gil's eyes widened with the hidden compliment and he refused refused refused to make eye contact with Break.

"You never asked about a _boyfriend~_." Gil choked and immediately stood, disregarding the implications of doing so. After a long pointed glare at Break, he mumbled something about bed under his breath and promptly left the room. He would've written the report for the damn increasingly blind clown anyway.

* * *

A couple hours later, Gil made his way back inside the mansion, taking the familiar path to his room as quietly as he could. At this time, most everyone was asleep. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering together and shivered, chilled to the bone from the freezing temperatures of December. It was an old habit of his to take a long walk outside when he needed an escape. But this time he didn't have a coat (nor his cigarettes, he regretfully noticed when he stepped outside... not that he was going to smoke them). Speaking of his coat, he hoped Oz got to bed alright.

When he reached his doorway, he noticed light flickering from under the crack. Did he forget to turn off the light earlier? Sighing, and colder than he could ever remember being, he let himself inside and closed the door behind himself.

But then he froze from more than just his temperature, leaned up against the door.

Oz was... in his room. On his bed. In his jacket. He seemed to be asleep on top of the covers, on his side facing the door. He had one hand resting by his head, the other draped over the side of the bed. His boots rested on the floor of the bedpost, while his belt, vest, and necktie were strewn messily across the armchair in the corner of the room.

Gil smiled at the sight, then reached down to remove his shoes. He looked up again after stowing them beside Oz's boots to see a single emerald eye cracked open sleepily, watching him.

"Mm, what time is it?"

"Late. Go back to sleep." Oz seemed tired enough to consider his advice and closed his eyes again. He shivered, holding Gil's coat close.

Gil reached out, intending to replace the coat with a blanket.

"Oz, do you want me to take you to your room?" He asked quietly, in case the other was successfully slipping back into unconsciousness.

He shook his head into the pillow and squinted his eyes tiredly, then rolled onto his back.

"No, I'll stay here with Gil."

Glad to see his hands were once again regaining feeling, he kneeled on the bed and brushed a lock of blonde hair out of his master's eyes.

"Will you at least get under the covers?"

"Gil, your hand is _freezing._"

"Ah, sorry."

Oz didn't say anything, but propped himself up and scooted over to the other side of the bed. He slipped under the covers, watching Gil expectantly.

Gil stared a moment before pulling the switch on the lamp on the nightstand, then crawled in beside him. The warmth of the blankets and residual body heat was heavenly and he shuddered, resisting the urge to curl up in a tight ball. He figured he should take better care of himself...

"Sorry that I took your coat," a sleepy voice slurred from a couple feet away, "But you really shouldn't have gone outside."

Gil didn't respond, so he continued, "Are you still angry?"

"I wasn't angry with you." Didn't Oz know by now he could never stay angry with him?

He jumped a little when he felt a hand feeling blindly down his arm to his hand. "Good," he said, while scooting forward, using Gil's hand as a reference point in the pitch blackness of the room, "Because... I want to know, Gil."

"Know what?" His whole body blushed as the blonde cuddled up to him, tucking his head under Gil's chin.

"Mm, about you," he slurred, "Since I wasn't... around to keep tabs on you, I need to know what my servant was up to all that time, hm?"

He stared into a dark corner of the room, shifting a little to make the other more comfortable as he digested his words. Oz never expressed interest in his past before. He'd always brushed it off, most likely feeling guilty that he missed out on a substantial part of his life. Gil felt a bit... relieved, to his surprise. But there was so much about himself he wasn't sure Oz would accept. Or maybe... he was afraid Oz would accept it too easily. There was much the boy could infer given his current missions, but he didn't _know_. If he did, would he still let Gil hold him close like this?

His arms tightened around him subconsciously at the thought.

"Gil?"

"Mm."

"I told you I would accept anything you do."

Gil blinked slowly. How is it that he could always tell what he's thinking in these moments?

"That's it, right? You're worried I'd think less of you if I knew?"

Oz sighed at his lack of response and he had to suppress a shiver as the other's breath hit his collarbone.

"You're so thick sometimes, Gil. You can tell me _anything_."

_'You say that now because you don't _know_,'_ he thought.

He grunted noncommittally.

Oz shifted, entangling their legs and burying his face deeper into his neck, using Gil's arm as a pillow.

"Are you warm enough now?"

"A-aa."

_Too warm._

* * *

**A/N:** The good news is I have the next five+ chapters written already. There is no bad news... yet. Yay!_  
_


	11. XI

The party

* * *

From the moment he stepped into his own mansion, Oz was swamped by people, some of which he recognized, but most nameless nobles and relatives who often showed up to these events. He didn't mind mingling; it was something he was used to from... before. It was expected of him to answer their questions, but as the night went on his patience began to wane. His answers were clipped as he tried to escape from the constant attention. He smiled, played his part, while subtly trying to locate his friends – his real friends – and _no,_ he didn't remember this girl who draped herself on his arm and _no,_ she didn't look particularly pretty tonight – but he told her differently, of course.

Couples began to emerge on the dance floor and he cringed inwardly, playing the part of the perfect gentleman as he excused himself just as he noticed the question on her lips.

Tonight was different, somehow.

He had no desire to be the heir of the Vessalius family tonight. He supposed he'd dance for a while and maybe for once sneak some alcohol, then quietly slip out before anyone noticed the subject of the party was missing. He was starting to understand how Gil felt.

And for reasons partially known to him since the night they spent together, he wanted to find his servant.

He walked the perimeter of the room, nodding respectfully to those who greeted him, but kept up his pace. Where was his servant? Where was Alice, Break, Sharon, Ada, or Oscar-ojisan?

It was a bit frustrating how they could manage to disperse themselves so unpredictably around the room.

But it wasn't hard to find Alice. He strode over to the table covered in excessive plates of expensive food and found himself decidedly not hungry. The food was too rich, and besides, his nerves were rattling themselves silly tonight. But the definition of hunger was his impossible chain, who was gorging herself with abandon. He rolled his eyes affectionately, coming to a stop next to her, and patted her on the head.

She glared up at him, but upon seeing who it was she beamed.

"Hi Alice, have you seen Gil?"

She shook her head and mumbled something incoherent around the food in her mouth.

Oz fought the disappointment. Gil had probably already disappeared, as usual. Oh well. He might as well try to enjoy his night anyway.

"Would you like to dance, Alice?"

She looked pleasantly surprised and stood, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor. She was always nice company, especially now that they'd acknowledged and defined their relationship. She surprised him with her sudden affection, but after their awkward talk it turned out Sharon had pushed her in the wrong direction. It wasn't what either of them wanted. Thus, with their friendship redefined, with Alice there were no expectations, no awkwardness. He could just be... Oz.

He twirled her around to the rather upbeat melody, laughing, thoroughly enjoying himself for the first time this evening. Somehow compared to her, the other girls in the room seemed dull. He'd always thought she was beautiful, but tonight she was radiant and he told her so. She blushed and smacked his arm and he laughed. Typical Alice.

As they spun, he glanced around the ballroom, scanning for any sign of his other companions. But in all honesty, he was really looking for one in particular.

There.

He squinted toward the corner where he saw the familiar figure, and then all but stopped dancing when he saw he wasn't alone. Curiosity got the better of him and he oriented himself and Alice so he could get a better view. Gil was talking to _someone_ and if only that guy would _move_ a little he could see -

It was a young woman. She was startlingly beautiful based on her profile, with black hair that stopped just below her shoulder-blades. She was too far for Oz to properly see her face, and she was turned toward Gil. And Gil looked _happy_, smiling just a little at whatever conversation they were having. He watched for several moments, whipping his head around at every chance he had to catch a glance while dancing – then tried to hide it, as Alice didn't take too kindly to his sudden lack of enthusiasm. He almost stopped again; his stomach knotted in dark anticipation when the woman placed her hand on Gil's forearm, where it _lingered_ momentarily.

He blinked when Gil suddenly took a step back from her and respectfully bowed before excusing himself and making a beeline toward the entrance of the ballroom.

Well that was... exactly what he should have expected.

He focused once again on Alice until the song ended. She barely noticed when he excused himself as she was already distracted, and he slipped out the same doorway his raven-haired friend had exited moments before.

There were some guests spilled out into the main foyer and he attempted to blend in as he navigated the mansion. He slipped under the staircase, and using only subtle moonlight from the windows he took the first right turn, hoping Gil would be here as expected. He couldn't think of anywhere else he would've gone...

He pushed aside the curtains to the balcony door and smiled in relief as he recognized the dark outline of his valet.

It was cold out when he slipped out the door, but his tight-fitting suit was stuffy and overly warm in the crowded ballroom. Gil was leaning against the railing, a cigarette between his lips. He glanced at him as he came up beside him, their shoulders touching.

Oz smirked and plucked the cigarette from his mouth and placed it in his own.

"Oz!"

"Psh, it's not even lit, Gil."

"But that's -"

"If you say anything about how _unhygienic_ it is to share a cigarette, I'm going to gut you."

Gil frowned and Oz grinned, having successfully snubbed his comment.

"Why are you here?"

"I could ask the same to you."

"I'm _always_ 'here,' but for you, this is unusual."

He had a point. There was a comfortable moment of silence then, a quality he cherished in his servant. He absentmindedly twirled the cigarette between his knuckles.

"Hey, Gil?" His palms were beginning to sweat despite the winter chill.

"Hm?"

"Why didn't you dance with that woman?" He kept his gaze forward, but he felt Gil look over at him.

"What?" He said, bewildered.

"She was asking you to dance, wasn't she?" He didn't want to look at him for some reason. There was a short pause as Gil took the cigarette from between his knuckles and replaced it in his inside pocket. The movement made their arms brush and Oz allowed it; something was about to change and the energy of anticipation was making him jittery and nervous. His skin was dulled to cold but hypersensitive to touch.

"I just...didn't want to. Why...?"

"I feel the same way," Oz said, his tone thoughtful and serious, and he licked his dry lips, "Ever since... the Abyss... I can't enjoy this anymore. It's not _real._ It just doesn't... feel right."

He felt his hands tremble with suppressed emotion and he tightened them into fists to try to hide his nervousness. But it wasn't lost on Gil.

His servant turned toward him, his expression bewildered but searching.

"What do you -"

"I wondered what it was like to really truly _feel_ something and I couldn't find it. It wasn't there with Alice," Oz noticed Gil's eyes flash for a moment at the mention of her name and couldn't help the inkling of guilt, "and I thought it wasn't there with anyone."

"Oz, what are you saying?"

Oz faced him squarely, staring determinedly into golden eyes so full of confusion and repressed emotions and he wondered how it was ever _possible_ to dismiss the unadulterated adoration in that gaze.

"Will you accept me no matter what I do, Gil?"

"Of course, but -"

Oz's eyes softened. _He promised me forever..._

And besides, it wasn't exactly the first time...

In one swift movement, he reached his hands around Gil's neck, pulled him down, and clumsily matched their lips.

Time seemed to stop. Oz ceased to breathe and refused to open his eyes because Gil wasn't _responding_ and clearly he made a _mistake _-

Gil tried to pull back and Oz kept his eyes clenched, not wanting to see the rejection on his face. When their lips parted, he slid his hands to either side of the other's chilled face and slammed his lips up to meet him again. Gil squeaked, but had yet to respond. He parted his lips, willing Gil to just _respond_ so he wouldn't feel so _stupid_. He massaged Gil's bottom lip between his own, and _finally_ he felt Gil take a hold of his shoulders gently and press his mouth back.

Oz let out the breath he'd been holding, feeling ridiculously giddy. Deep contentment and sharp excitement awakened in his chest and he suppressed a grin at the relief, pressing more fully into the other. He felt Gil's hands tighten on his shoulders, but it wasn't clear whether he meant to push him away or pull him closer.

When Gil finally pulled away, he opened his eyes dazedly and met the other's gaze. Both were equally out of breath, the blonde's arms now loosely looped around his shoulders.

He felt rather pleased with himself.

"Oz, what was _that_?" Gil was flushed to the brim, his voice small and shaking.

_BANG._

Oz whirled around so fast his head spun and he had to blink stars out of his eyes.

"OZ!"

"A-Alice." He smiled sheepishly, somewhat relieved that it was Alice who had barged out onto the balcony. If it were anyone else, he or she may have been able to read the atmosphere. But this was Alice and she was clueless.

She stomped forward and grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the doorway before he had time to react.

"Come _on._ Oscar-ojisan said I can't eat any more meat until I drag you back in there."

He sighed; his absence didn't go unnoticed as planned. He murmured his assent and as an afterthought, grabbed the still-frozen Gil's hand and dragged him along as well.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter was a bit short because I didn't want to break up the next one, which will be relatively long.


	12. XII

Gil sat on the edge of his bed, undressed for bed save for his pants and slightly unbuttoned white shirt. He sat with his head in his hands, apprehensive and confounded beyond belief. Oz... he...

Does he have any _idea_ what he's doing?

That kiss surely wasn't nothing; even he couldn't talk himself into believing that. The only possibility is that... Oz missed Gil. The Gil he grew up with. Why he decided those emotions equated to romanticism wasn't clear.

But he wasn't... he wasn't Gil anymore. He was a Nightray now, a trained killing machine, just another tool of Pandora.

He wanted this, yes, more than he's ever wanted anything in his life (so badly it hurt), but it was an unreachable goal – Oz had even told him so.

But if this was what Oz wanted _now, _if he'd somehow changed his mind... would Gil be able to turn him away?

_Don't think too much. It was probably a joke or another silly experiment._

But the image of Oz's clenched eyes, the puff of breath he felt when he'd started kissing him back... It seemed too real to dismiss.

His heart skipped a beat when he heard a knock on the door and he willed himself to calm down. He could feel the blood thunder through his neck and wrists he was so nervous.

"Gi-ru~?" he heard and he jumped up to let him in as a formality, although the door was unlocked.

He hurried to the door, wringing his hands in an effort to keep them from shaking, and pulled it open before he could stress further.

Oz stood on the other side, still fully dressed in his white suit, smiling as always.

He truly was brilliant, wasn't he? His master was beautiful, so breathtakingly so, and every once in a while in a moment like this he was reminded, like a physical blow, just how much he'd fallen.

It made his heart clench with need.

Before Gil could say anything, the blonde pushed past him and jumped on his bed as if he turned people's worlds upside down everyday. He slipped his shoes off and sat cross-legged facing Gil, reaching to untie his bowtie. It was at the point where he was pulling it off and setting it down beside him on the bed that he finally noticed Gil staring at him.

He blinked. "What?"

Gil sputtered, flabbergasted. "What do you mean _what_? Oz, you... you-!"

"Kissed you?" He averted his eyes for a moment and smiled, "Yeah."

"_Why?!"_

"Gil, come here." He patted the spot on the bed next to him and lifted his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and rocking slightly.

Typical Oz, perfectly composed despite having just earlier _made out_ with his best friend who happened to be deeply in love with him (not that he knew that, but he'd be thick not to).

Gil stared blankly before obeying, sitting on the edge of the bed much like he did earlier.

"How do you feel about me?"

He froze, his eyes widening in sudden panic. He'd anticipated this question, but not nearly so _soon_. It was clear what kind of answer he was looking for, but how could he – he couldn't just spill the secret he's been keeping since, well, forever! He couldn't fool himself, but he'd never openly admitted his feelings to another person before, and certainly he couldn't – not to Oz himself. It had taken years for him to even admit it to _himself_.

_But wouldn't it feel nice to finally admit it aloud?_

His mouth opened and closed a few times.

"Oz, that's -"

He jumped slightly when he felt a hand lift his chin, and lifted his burning eyes to shining emeralds.

"Heh," is all he said before looking away, grinning.

_Heh?! _Gil studied him, alarmed and slightly affronted, not comprehending just _what_ could bring about such an ambiguous reaction.

Oz, suddenly serious, stood up and clasped his hands behind his back, then began pacing the area in front of him.

"Gilbert."

The tone he used was enough to startle him to attention; it was the same tone he used to use before sicking Dinah on him. Not to mention he referred to him by his _full name_.

"I suppose a simple 'I just wanted to' will not suffice?" He looked hopeful.

Gil let out an exasperated breath.

"_No,_ Oz."

"Hmph. How about something along the lines of 'I am your master and I do what I want,' then?"

"Are you serious?"

"Gi-ru~!" He said dramatically, drawing out each syllable in slight irritation. He stopped pacing and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting down at him.

Gil resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead stared up at him expectantly.

"And I said all that embarrassing stuff too," he huffed and looked to the side, "But clearly you weren't even _listening_."

"I _was_ listening. But that didn't explain – that doesn't explain why... _me_." He mumbled the last bit, even as he tried to seem condescending. But this was Oz. And Oz was never fazed by any of his otherwise renowned intimidation tactics.

"It _does_. Ugh, Gil." He slapped a palm over his face, shaking his head, "I really like you, okay?"

Gil couldn't help the wave of heat that settled pleasantly in his chest, no matter how hard he tried to fight the hope. Oz... liked him?

"But -"

"No, just listen. I think I always kinda liked you, Gil." He resumed pacing and seemed determined not to look him in the eye, and it was...fascinating. An abashed Oz was not something he'd ever seen much of. "And yes, I know you're probably thinking of that... time. But what would _you_ have done? Imagine you're the heir of the Vessalius household and your very male best friend and servant suddenly decides to uh, cheer you up with his _mouth_?

"I've thought about it since then... a lot. But at the time it wasn't something I knew how to or wanted to deal with, Gil. Did you know that Oscar-ojisan has been teasing me about marriage since I was _eleven? _I've always been expected to produce an besides, until recently I thought... I thought you didn't know what you were doing. My father rejected me, so I thought it was your way of... making me feel accepted. And maybe you _didn't_ know what you were doing and I just sound like a moron." He paused and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but it was clear he wasn't finished with his rant.

When he continued, his voice was lower than usual and his eyes were downcast. The genuineness of his expression made Gil want to reach out to him, but he contained himself.

"I feel like my life is split in two; before and after the Abyss," he said, smiling humorlessly, "I was so _stupid_ back then. It's like the things that mattered then don't even compare to what concerns me now. I've always been prepared to move forward without question but when I think about what I missed out on... I realize the part I regret missing the most... is you.

"And you're such an _idiot_ for making me believe that there could be one thing in my life that's consistent."

Oz stopped and stared down at him thoughtfully, his eyes soft.

"You're the same as ever, Gil."

"No, Oz, I'm _not_, that's -"

Oz placed his hands on his shoulders, and stared him dead in the eye and suddenly he couldn't breathe. The warmth of his hands seeped in through his shirt and he suppressed a shiver.

"You are. When I look at you now, I see Raven, but mostly I see Gil. I don't _care_ about what you've done that makes you so ashamed to look at me because I promise you it _doesn't matter_. Seriously. I'm not stupid, Gil," he laughed when Gil frowned, "No matter what you did to gain Raven or whatever the Nightrays made you do, you're good enough for me."

It felt as if someone were drenching him with hot liquid from the cheeks downward. It seemed that... Oz had really thought about this. But no matter what he accepted of him, Gil was still nine years his senior and not to mention his _servant_.

He also couldn't shake the feeling that Oz was merely settling for him. Maybe the one he really wanted was the Gilbert of the past.

"Now... do you have any idea how much you're going to pay for embarrassing your master like this?"

"W-wait, Oz," he bit the inside of his lip, "You told me... you liked _girls_." He made one last attempt for control. Why did his voice have to sound so _small?_

_Because it's Oz_.

"Heh, I can make an exception."

Oh kami, he could feel his eyes glittering with unshed tears. It's just like him to get all weepy after disagreeing with Oz that he's anything like the Gil he used to know. He grit his teeth together, willing himself to stay in control.

"Oz! I'm _Raven, _not your Gilbert. You're..." _making a mistake. _He grimaced at the words his mind supplied him.

"_My_ Gilbert?" He tapped his fingertip to his lip as if testing the words, then smirked, "I like the sound of that."

Gil mentally blanched, positively fuming at the suggestiveness of his statement. Who the hell was the adult here?

He wasn't even _listening!_

He felt Oz's fingertips brush his forehead, catching the locks in his eyes and combing them to the side.

"Oz... don't," he weakly pleaded, willing himself to resist despite the fire of hope that flickered so insistently beneath his ribcage. _You're setting yourself up for disappointment, master._

"You... are so cute, Gil." He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together as Gil squeaked out an "I am not!"

It was _really_ difficult to gather his bearings when he could _feel_ Oz's breath fanning out across his mouth. Oz was smirking as if this was his intention and Gil's eyes were drawn against his will to his lips. He wondered if Oz could feel his temperature rise at least five degrees. Blonde hair brushed his cheeks to mingle in his own, and he was enveloped in his familiar heady scent. Never before could he look at the other this way, had he _allowed _himself to look at him this way, but here and now the opportunity was presented to him on a silver platter. Oz wasn't even going to give him a chance to speak his mind...

He was teasing him, waiting for him to make the first move. He couldn't think even remotely straight at this point; why was he hesitating again?

Oz's nose brushed his and he shuddered at the simple touch.

_So utterly at his mercy..._

At this, Oz brushed their noses together more deliberately, his smirk widening, and Gil lurched forward, catching that teasing smirk between his lips, determined to wipe it off his face.

Oh kami, this was...

He was much too fargone at this point and they'd barely even started. He never had a chance. Gil reached up and threaded his fingers in his master's blonde locks, molding their mouths together desperately.

Oz let out a surprised moan at the tugging on his hair and suddenly pushed on his shoulders, causing Gil to fall backward on the bed.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this wasn't turning out the way he'd intended.

But then Oz suddenly straddled his waist and gripped his jaw hard enough to bruise, their lips clashing hungrily. They were both panting and it was so _hot - _was it just him?

He felt a wetness on his lip and groaned at the feel of it, a spike of passion passing painfully through his chest at the sensation.

Suddenly, he flipped them over so he was on top and panted over the blonde, staring down at him in disbelief.

Oz was smirking up at him, dominant despite his suddenly submissive positioning.

"See something you like, Gi-ru~?" He cooed, obviously meant to tease him in memory of the moment in the library.

* * *

Oh jeez, this was _not_ what Oz was expecting when he came in here. This was _much_ better. This was him having Gil entirely at his mercy in ways he never thought he would. But... his dominant will was faltering and he was not nearly as unaffected as he pretended to be. Gil was... surprisingly dominant and it was a little disconcerting but it was mostly _hot._

But he still had it in him to tease his poor servant.

Making sure he had Gil locked in his gaze, he reached up with both hands to the raven's waist, trailing the sides of his thighs to his hips to the bare skin under his shirt – ah, yes, Gil's eyes widened as he trailed his fingertips up to his waist and back down, then spread his palms over his flat abdomen and dragged his hands up to his collarbones and then down his shoulders...

But it was backfiring. Oz's smirk disappeared from his face as Gil shivered at his touch and by this point he was _painfully_ affected and suddenly unsure of himself.

He'd never done anything more than kissing and he wondered, had Gil? It was clear he had some kissing experience, which was... actually a bit disappointing. He supposed he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up that no girlfriend meant he was a virgin. The thought of some stranger's hands touching his innocent servant was unpleasant to say the least, but he knew it was terribly selfish (and naïve) to think that maybe he'd... waited for him.

"O-Oz? We can... stop if you want." Gil must've noticed his falter. He looked worried.

"I just... uh, have you... done this before?" He supposed he might as well find out now, no matter how much he might not like the response...

"Well... sort of. I mean, not _more _than this..."

Gil looked embarrassed and Oz couldn't fathom why. He lifted an eyebrow.

"Nothing below the waist." He flushed and avoided his eyes.

That was an odd way to put it. Oz decided not to push the subject yet, despite his growing curiosity. Gil glanced at him sideways.

"Have...?"

"No, just... kissing. But even then, not really."

He caught Gil's gaze, determined to quell the threatening blush by glaring instead. "Don't look so surprised."

Then Gil did something unexpected but dangerously exciting. He laughed airily, a rare, gentle sound that sent chills down his spine, before he lowered his head and started placing hot kisses down his jaw and neck. Again, Oz felt his control steadily slipping away, especially when he felt warm breath tickling his ear - "Was I your first, _bocchan?_"

"G-Gil." He swallowed at the old title. How could he use it at a time like _this_? And was Gil _licking_ him? He grasped hopelessly at the remaining tendrils of control he had, but still stretched his neck out to give his damn servant more room.

"Well?" Gil placed open mouthed kisses down his neck to the top of his collar and then back up to his ear where he trailed his tongue slowly along the shell.

Oz was beginning to pant. "Y-yes."

"Gil!" he exclaimed when he felt teeth nip lightly into his flesh. Gil was _biting_ him-? Gil was biting his master-?

He pushed at him, not truly annoyed but unwilling to relinquish control. Gil faltered, confused, and Oz pushed him until he sat up to his side.

"Oz, was that -"

A red, befuddled, apologetic, embarrassed Gil was exactly what he was shooting for. He smirked and leaned up on his knees so he'd gain some height before slamming their lips together.

"Mmph!"

Yes, this is exactly where Gil belonged and he would know it. Oz took this moment to make short work of his suit jacket and vest, discarding them and feeling unbelievably cooler.

Gil practically trembled as he ran his hands down his front and groaned deep in his throat as Oz slipped his tongue into his parted mouth.

His servant struggled to stay sitting, first leaning on his hands... then his elbows, and Oz used his weight to push him forward until he was once again pinned flat under him. Oz hovered, not quite ready to take the next step despite feeling so overheated and brainless.

He took a moment to catch his breath and leaned his forehead to the other's, smiling down at his servant. After a long moment, he collapsed on the bed next to him and snuggled into his chest, content now that he'd managed to calm himself down. Gil ran his fingertips along his scalp and he felt his eyelids drooping. What time was it now? It must've been after one at the very least.

"Oz?"

"Mm?"

"What suddenly made up your mind?" Oz leaned his weight on his hand and pushed upward, sharing the pillow with Gil, the pair now lying side by side.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you said 'until recently,' implying you hadn't thought of... this before." Oz glanced away at the comforter they were lying on top of before meeting his eyes again.

"I'll answer your question if you'll answer one of mine."

Gil blinked and nodded.

"You and Break... you're close?"

"Wh-what?" Gil looked a bit frazzled which served to increase his suspicions. Out of all the silly decisions his servant could have made while he was in the Abyss... _Break?_

Oz gave him a knowing look, so Gil felt the need to defend himself.

"He...helped me through a lot while you were..." he paused and trailed off, "Especially during my initiation into the Nightray household. My... age didn't matter to my adoptive parents. Only my gun skills did. If they had their way, I would have done worse than quiet assassinations. And I was ready to, if it meant I could wield Raven. But Break... always allowed me a way out, somehow."

Oz didn't want to put much thought into what "worse" could have entailed, but he could imagine. With Gil's looks, he was sure the Nightrays weren't above using his body itself was as a negotiating tool. He cringed. Gil said he'd been ready to do whatever it took for Raven to acknowledge him, and it was... all for him? Break mentioned something of the sort to him before.

Oz swallowed the lump forming in his throat, "So... were you... romantically...?"

Gil blushed and looked down, and he felt the unfamiliar stirrings of jealousy in his gut. "No... it wasn't romantic."

"You were lonely," he said, matter-of-factly.

He looked surprised, but then his face contorted in guilt. The look was heartbreaking because it mirrored his own guilt, but had no place on Gil's face. He lifted his hand to his cheek and Gil's eyes widened as if he was going to apologize, but Oz beat him to it.

"I'm sorry." He'd never realized just how much his disappearance could have affected him. He was grateful that Gil still wanted to serve him when he returned from the Abyss, but he never imagined that he could mean so much to someone as to cause them pain... for ten whole years. And apparently even _longer _than that...

"For _what?_ Oz -" But he was cut off by the gentle brush of Oz's lips. This kiss was different from the others, much softer and less forceful. It wasn't open-mouthed or wet, just an exploratory brushing of mouths.

When Oz pulled back, his chest felt tight. Gil looked conflicted.

"Are you... sure about this? I'm only your servant and not to mention a lot older than you now."

"Ugh, _Gilbert._ As your master I command you to seriously shut up about whether I want this or not."

"But... why the sudden change?" He had somewhat hoped that Gil would forget about it. He turned over onto his back, reaching a hand up to the ceiling absentmindedly. He could feel the other watching him expectantly, still facing him on his side.

"Do you promise not to get angry?"

"Angry? Why would I be angry with you?"

"Not with...me," he said hesitantly. The last thing he wanted was for Gil to rush out of the room and bash Break's door in, as entertaining as that might be...

"Oz. What is it?" His tone was impatient and flat.

"Well, remember that night when you _were_ angry with me?" Gil nodded. "Break... told me you had feelings for me."

There was no response, so Oz turned his head to gauge his reaction. Gil had gone still. He turned on his side and grabbed his hand, which was cool to the touch.

"Gil?"

"What did he say to you?" It was Oz's turn to flush and he picked up Gil's hand to examine it, suddenly fascinated by the faint scars lining his fingertips. He hid his face in the palm.

"Uh... he said..." Kami, was his face really as red as it felt? "That you were in love with me."

The last bit came out mumbled, and despite his embarrassment he kept one eye trained on Gil through a gap in his fingers.

"He said _what?!" _Gil sat up abruptly, jerked his hand out of Oz's grasp, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His back was facing him now, so he couldn't quite discern the expression he might be wearing.

"Uh..." he said awkwardly, sitting up with one knee brought up to his chest, "Are you... not?"

His heart was suddenly beating erratically in his ribcage. Had he acted on words that weren't even _true?_ It was clear Gil harbored affection for him, but maybe that was just a coincidence. That would be...humiliating.

"That's not... that's not it."

_What?_ That was ambiguous. His heart started beating out of his chest, and he would be surprised if Gil couldn't hear it.

"So... it is or it isn't true?" Oz could tell Gil was fighting some inner battle and hope flared up before he could stop it.

Gil made to get up, "I should... find you something to sleep in."

"No. Gil." He grabbed the back of his shirt before he could stand completely and yanked him down, delighting in the squeak he heard when the back of his head collided with his chest. "Are you?"

"Am I _what?_" Gil looked annoyed and thoroughly disheveled.

"You're stalling."

Gil sighed.

"Isn't it _obvious_, Oz?" He turned around, one knee on the bed, leaning over him with one hand resting on the back of his neck. Suddenly, once again, Oz felt like their positions had been reversed. "Of course I am."

This time when Gil kissed him, he gave him the reigns. He felt dizzy, elated to a level he couldn't remember ever feeling before. The kiss was soft and slow, his servant kissing him languidly, and the pace was driving him insane. It was... good. So good. Gil supported the base of his skull with one hand, the other placed as support on the bed, and pressed forward, deepening the kiss with the barest of pressures.

He'd never been kissed like this before, and he reasoned that there was no one who _could_ kiss him like this. This was all Gil, and Gil was in love with him. He pressed his lips back, addicted, resisting the urge to flip the tables again because this was from his servant to him. He felt his body respond in a way different from the hunger he felt earlier. This time it was more of a building passion that set even his fingertips aflame. Gil's fingertips softly stroked up into his hair, his fingernails spawning tingles in their wake. He grabbed more fully onto his scalp to angle him slightly. At the same time Oz felt something wet stroking at his top lip and he shivered, opening his mouth. Gil moaned slightly and he felt his supporting arm start to tremble, but he must have been too fargone to reposition himself. Despite his boldness earlier, Oz felt suddenly shy as he softly tangled his tongue with the other's, drunk on the taste and the friction. He heard a soft moan, and embarrassingly realized it had probably come from himself, but Gil made a sound in response and he couldn't bring himself to care.

Eventually one of them pulled back, and Oz was willing to bet it wasn't him. He followed those lips, pressing soft chaste kisses on their swollen surface, and received the same in return. His eyes, half-lidded, met those of gold and he closed them again just as Gil's did. He couldn't... stop. Where was his control? He was Gil's master, not some lovedrunk fool.

They exchanged kisses for many minutes, but what felt like hours, until Oz's mouth was barely cooperating anymore, and his eyelids were so heavy that he stopped in favor of leaning on Gil's shoulder.

"'M...tired..."

"Do you... uh... want me to carry you to your room?"

Oz gave him a look that clearly showed he thought he was delusional.

Gil got up and dutifully found night clothing for them both, and once they were both dressed they slipped under the covers of the familiar bed. Immediately, worried that his servant would once again be having doubts, Oz snuggled into him and pressed himself against his side.

"Goodnight... Gil." He stayed awake for a few seconds longer, just enough time to feel lips press against his forehead. He smiled and nuzzled deeper into his shoulder, and then he was out.

* * *

Gil stayed awake a few moments longer, fingering his swollen, tingling lips. This was really happening; he was powerless to stop it now. So he'd protect it.

With that thought in mind, he slipped off into unconsciousness, feeling un-familiarly weightless.

_I'm yours, Oz._


End file.
